Ordinary People
by inadaze22
Summary: “Let me be clear about something tonight, Granger. You're the only woman I’ve ever wanted...It’s always been you.” Draco steps in the fireplace, drops the floo powder, and disappears in a burst of green flames. Being re-written.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling does.

Author's Note: This is a story about the highs and lows of a relationship, and the unbreakable bonds of friendship, misunderstandings, and complications. I hope you all like it. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Read and review, as always. Peace!

Oh yeah, there is a smut warning on part 3 entitled "Sexual".

**4/24/08 Note: So I finally decided to start the mass editing process. It's slow, but it's in progress.**

Thanks to MusicalCatharsis for her beta work on this chapter.

* * *

_I've given up, I'm sick of feeling,_

_Is there nothing you can say?_

_Take this all away, I'm suffocating,_

_Tell me what the fuck is wrong with me._

"_Given Up"—Linkin Park_

_(June 5th)_

"That's it! I can't take all this bloody moping anymore!" Ginny spins me around to face her, bracing both hands on my shoulders. "You were doing so well when we got here, Hermione, what happened?"

"I don't mope, Ginny, I brood." I dispute adamantly.

Bright brown eyes judge me contemptuously,

"For the most part," I correct, looking away.

She pulls my eyes back to hers, a determined gleam present in them, "I want you to repeat after me," Ginny orders, intent looking into my eyes, "My name is Hermione Granger."

Exhaling dramatically, I roll my eyes and whine, "For the love of—"

She clicks her tongue, aggravated, "My name is Hermione Granger," she prompts again.

Mumbling, "My name is Hermione Granger."

I know full well that wallowing in self-pity like a pampered, ill-tempered child isn't going to fly well with my almost-annoyingly headstrong best friend, Ginny Weasley.

"Good, that's a start," Ginny encourages, "Now say, 'I'm the smartest woman alive and men want me'."

My mouth drops open to protest.

Ginny raises an eyebrow at me.

I clamp my objection and follow instructions…"I'm the smartest witch alive and men want me."

Smirking, "Now say it all together."

Folding my arms, "My name is Hermione Granger. I'm the smartest witch alive and men want me."

Ginny nods with conviction and drops her hands, "Smile like you mean it," she flashes one bright grin of her own.

I smile widely at her. Right now I feel a lot better.

Tonight isn't going to be horrible and it's not going to be like pulling teeth. It's going to be fine because I have my incorrigible best friend here with me.

You see, tonight is an important night for me. It's the last night of my life. No, I don't mean that literally, but figuratively.

Tonight I'm giving up. Yes, relentless, obstinate, determined Hermione Granger who is the patron saint of all underdogs is a quitter…and it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

So, now, I'm saying goodbye to everything, discarding my old life along with the person I've been for the last three years. All of it must go in order for me to move on: my job, my apartment, him. I'm starting over. This is the hardest and the most mature decision I've ever made in my 21 years of life. One that I'm taking it in stride, even though I don't want to…even though it's hard as hell.

"Are you going to come back in or stare past me for another ten minutes?" Ginny asks, breaking into the thoughts running rampant in my head, hands on her hips.

She's out to do some serious head-turning tonight for sure because she looks wonderful in her black, form-fitted, mid-thigh length dress robes, dangly earrings, heels, and her red hair pinned up with curled tendrils falling.

"I'll be in there really soon." I offer an assuring smile.

That she doesn't return because she knows me inside and out, "Hermione…I know tonight—I know this giving up thing is really hard for you, I understand…but you need to have some fun tonight, dance a little, drink a little, and get your mind off him. You probably won't even see him tonight. He hates parties…even though he throws them all the time."

Heaving a great sigh, "I know, I know," I take a deep breath because I do know everything she's talking about, and then I smile again, "You go on in, I'll be right behind you, okay?"

Ginny smiles as best as she can, "All right," and her last words before leaving are, "but stop thinking about him."

There are at least four million thoughts running around in the crevices of my mind hours after saying goodbye to my co-workers and employees for the last time at the conclusion of this goodbye party my boss threw for me…well technically, it's a goodbye/birthday/housewarming party all in one. How he makes it work, I'll never know.

Everyone is having a wonderful time and it works.

"So," a nameless girl begins her story, interrupting my thoughts again, "Beth dared me to get my belly button pierced the muggle way…and I did it."

"Oh, let me see!" some other nameless girl shrieks in a voice that reminds me of nails on a chalkboard. I wince.

"You can't! Let me tell you what happened. Apparently, I'm allergic to heavy metals so within an hour, the bloody thing swelled up and turned colors. I looked like I had a disease. My mum took me to a muggle hospital where they stuck a needle in me with some medicine. It was ridiculous. I'm never doing anything muggle again, not like that."

"Wow, that's crazy, Leila."

Pause.

"Has anyone seen Draco Malfoy?"

"Not since they sang happy birthday to him. He blew out the candles, grabbed a piece of cake, and left. I would love to catch him alone so I can make it a really happy birthday for him…"

They finally drift out of earshot and I can't thank the stars more. The very thought of someone making this a "really happy birthday" for Draco makes me sick to my—no. I'm not going to think about him tonight. No, I'm not going to torture myself like that…oh, who am I kidding? I think about him all the time.

I can't remember a time when I didn't.

Even with the distracting voices, my mind is running a thousand miles a minute with all sorts of random thoughts.

It starts off with the mental note to remind Ginny to leave her key with the landlord, whether I remembered to clean out the candy wrappers from my bottom desk drawer, whether my last check was deposited, whether I remembered to give Pansy back her favorite shoes, and it goes on from there.

Did I not remember to leave him my new address like he wanted so he can't connect to my new flat by floo?

Do I have everything? Will I be a good healer? Will I be okay? Will I miss him? Is my makeup right?

How do I look? Did we clean everything well enough? Will I miss my job? Am I replaceable?

And so it goes on for about fifteen more minutes, as I stand in the foyer of his massive newly built home, the silhouette of the full moon filtering through massive windows, meshing with my tinier shadow.

From my vantage spot at the top of the stairs, I notice a few stragglers make their way into the house, giggling and handing their purses and gifts to the paid house elf standing at the door. I watch them walk through the picturesque foyer. A few guests stop and take in the classic beauty of this room; to me, it looks like heaven.

Magical portraits, classic and very expensive muggle paintings on the walls, stone sculptures, an enormous gold and crystal chandeliers, shiny white marble floors with gold flecks that lead to the classic white marble double staircases. With the lights on, it's bright, convivial, and relaxing; nothing like the dungeon it used to be. He spared no expense in building this house; I know this because I was there with him through the entire designing and building process, giving and denying approval. This is the first time I've seen Malfoy manor since builders' completed it last month, more than four years after they tore it down following his parents' death.

Once guests finish awing over the foyer, they typically disappear into the enormous room dubbed as the "party wing", which is larger than most muggle clubs in London. It literally takes up a wing of this thirty-seven room mansion.

When more people arrive, I look at my watch, shocked to see that it's almost midnight; the invitation owls surely said the festivities started at 9 o'clock. Shaking my head, I heave another sigh and promenade in the direction of the thumping music, knowing full well that inside those double doors will be the last place I'll bump into the reclusive birthday boy.

It's in the minutes it takes me to find the party, when everything stops, people leave me alone, and all the focus is off me that I really can think clearly. It's at this moment that I can't help but wonder just how I got here…

"Hermione!" Ginny calls my name over the music.

I don't even know how I hear her, I can't see her. It's so dark and crowded.

The birthday/housewarming party is in full swing by the time I come back to reality. There has to be a few hundred people in here. Music is playing thanks to the DJ, Blaise Zabini, people are literally dry humping on the dance floor, couples are freely making out the couches in the corner of the room, lights flash in the dark room with the beat of the music, lots of chatty people off and away from the dance floor, caddy witches sneering at anyone who looks better, free drinks of your choice at seven different bars with seven different themes, free food from all over the world.

There's a quiet place people can go to talk. The back door is open to anyone who wants to take the party outside into the extensive gardens.

In about an hour, everyone will be outside for the magical fireworks display.

Yes, he really knows how to throw a magical party…it's an amazing sight to behold. Really.

It takes a minute to spot Ginny in the crowd of gyrating bodies on the dance floor and I approach her with caution because she's taking shots of something that looks like petrol and dancing with two extremely attractive men.

Ron would pass out if he saw her right now and Harry…Harry would hex the guys into a new year.

She's flushed from dancing, "Isn't this great?"

"Yeah, simply amazing!" I holler my response back, moving my hips to look like I'm dancing and having fun.

For someone who is "taking a break" from Harry so he can "find himself" before he makes a decision on whether or not he wants to settle down (a.k.a.: he wants to have sex with other women to see if the grass really is greener on the other side), she's having a better time than I am.

I think it's because she's nineteen, just finished her first season as a professional Quidditch player, and she's "finding herself" too.

The one of the men slithers up to me, grinding his hips against me so seductively that I blush and shake my head, clearly showing no interest in dancing.

It's not like I really can anyway.

He shrugs and goes back to grinding against my best friend's arse and I go on a quest for a drink…

The firewhiskey burns more than usual tonight and all plans to get trashed fly right out the window.

Instead, I sit at the bar, detached from everyone, and think.

I think and wonder just when was the moment my life became so outrageous, so crazy that I'm driven to the decision that the moment I finished training to be a healer I would quit my extremely high-paying job, take a new one that doesn't pay so great at St. Mungo's, put in notice to move to a new flat closer to the hospital, and abruptly end—something that can't be classified into a specific group other than, "a giant mistake."

"This next song goes out to the birthday boy, Draco Malfoy, wherever he is."

I signal to the barmaid for another firewhiskey, better make it a double.

* * *

_I am more than you see, more than wanted, more you'll more love_

_More than you'll hate, more than you'll have, more than wanted._

"_More than wanted"—Vanessa Carlton_

_(Twenty minutes later)_

Two years.

Ten months.

Fifteen days.

Twelve hours.

Forty-seven minutes.

That's exactly how long I've had a crush on Draco Malfoy…

…exactly how long I've been occasionally sleeping with him…

…and exactly how long I've been planning my escape.

Crushes are supposed to be innocent, exquisite, and supposed to make you feel fantastic, but this crush right here…

This crush comes with some of the worst anguish I've ever felt in my life. This crush makes me want to wrench my eyes out with a spade saturated in poison. This crush makes me want to kick and scream in frustration until I can no longer breathe. This crush is exactly what the name implies: a crush and it's crushing the life out of me…

And I can't let it, not anymore.

Being around someone who doesn't share your sentiments is absolutely maddening.

Getting fed mixed signals by someone who you care about is about as awful as it is confusing.

Being forced to keep distance is some of the worst torture I've ever subjected myself to.

Occasionally having sex with someone and having to pretend each encounter means nothing is painful.

Watching countless women openly flirt with, giggle over, and try to seduce someone you want is just agonizing.

Everyday I spend in his presence, everytime he tortures me by sitting in my office for most of the day, everytime he stands in my office doorway stoic and bearing lunch for the two of us, everyday this crush goes unrequited, everytime he tells me about each of his horrendous dates and his equally appalling five-month relationship with Astoria Greengrass that started right after our first time together, everytime…

…it's like a tiny piece of me is sloughed off.

So I'm leaving before it's too late. I'm leaving before there's nothing left of me to hold on to. I'm leaving before I'm unable to recognize my reflection in the mirror. I'm leaving because I want my life back…I'm leaving. I can't take any of this shit anymore, I can't stand this. I can't…and even though I'm leaving, the sad truth is, the truth that breaks my heart is…I still want him to want me.

I want to mean something to Draco, something extraordinary, something more than just that Gryffindor Granger, more than Harry Potter's bushy-haired best friend and Ronald Weasley's ex-girlfriend, more than the brightest witch of my day, more than his senior financial analyst, something more than the person who helped him uncorrupt the lending company he inherited after his father's death.

I want my name to evoke something deep in him, I want my name to tug at his heart, and I want my name to make him smile just a little.

For once, I want to be prevalent in Draco's thoughts. I want to matter to him. Whether this is an upshot of my need for vengeance for this unrequited crush, I don't know…but more than anything, I want him to want me.

I want to be the one he owls when he thinks of something that he needs to share with someone. Merlin, this is funny to me, because I'm that person for a lot of people, but even now, I want to be that person for him.

I want to be vital. Even more than that, I want him to find me endearing rather than annoying. I want to be beautiful to him instead of cute. I want him to display some kind of emotion towards me and not just shag me. I want to be intelligent to him instead of a know-it-all. I want him to be captivated with my idiosyncrasies, mesmerized by my bad habits, and I want him to adore all the wonderful things about me that make me…me.

I want him to realize all the minor details about me and appreciate them. I want him to occasionally glance from his work and wonder what I'm doing at that exact moment. I want him to seek me out before I want to write an owl to him…and because this hasn't happened, because this will probably never happen, I'm leaving.

Whenever he's around, whenever someone flirts with him, whenever someone coos about how cute he is…I feel like becoming a horrible, petulant, needy child that I never want to be and I hate it. I hate him for making me feel this way. I hate him…and that's another reason why I'm leaving.

"Pretty girl like you shouldn't be sitting all alone."

I look up and over to see Theodore Nott sitting on the barstool next to me. He's smoking a cigarette and drinking a glass of firewhiskey and I don't think he knows who I am because if he did, he wouldn't have complimented me. I haven't seen him since his father received the dementor's kiss after the war; punishment for crimes committed as a death eater.

Pansy told me he left the wizarding world with his mother, so to see him here tonight piques my interest, mildly.

"How are you enjoying the party, Nott?"

Instantly, he recognizes my voice, "Granger," looks at me with wide eyes, "Hermione Granger?"

Slowly, with a touch of humor, I reply, "The one and only."

Face scrunches like he's eaten a bad lemon, "You look…different."

I know I do. I managed to tame the bushy hair, my robes fit better, and recently dived into the world of light makeup, just enough to soften my skin and bring out my brown eyes.

Pansy's idea, not mine, of course.

"Umm…thanks, you look…the same." I honestly can barely remember him from school. I remember seeing him in the library a few times. He was in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes with me, but I don't recall him being in any of my other classes, not even the ones we had with Slytherin. Maybe I wasn't paying attention.

The next few minutes are filled with bullshit conversation. How are you? Are you enjoying the party? What have you been doing since school? Where do you work? Do you still keep up with anyone? It's the bullshit you have to get out the way before you decide whether you really want to keep on talking to this person.

I can tell immediately he is not someone I want to keep talking to.

Theodore Nott, I can tell, still thinks little of me because of my blood status. He may be civil, poised, and too mature to sneer and call me a mudblood, but I know he still thinks of me as one. Nevertheless, he tells me he left London and moved to America with his mother to get away from everything and now he's back, working in the London branch of the department of International Magical Cooperation. He's not really close with anyone, but then again, he never was.

Pansy invited him to the party, but he deduces that she only did it to be polite.

Knowing her, she probably did.

He asks nothing about me; it's almost as if he's not interested and doesn't care. He's boring and his underlying jabs against me that he doesn't realize I understand are much unappreciated.

Still, I'm too tired to curse him out so I just listen politely and nod, letting my mind drift.

* * *

_I get chills all up my spine_

_When you talk to me, it's painful_

_You don't know what you do to this heart of mine_

"_Sexual"—Amber_

_(An hour later) _

Theodore leaves me alone after the fireworks and I find myself wandering down the corridors, lost in my pursuit of nothing, completely unaware of anything.

It's not until a rich, deep voice hisses, "You really shouldn't be walking around here alone, Granger, you don't know what or who is lurking about," that I realize the world around me still exists.

Surprised, I spin on my heels and gasp, finding myself facing the austere and reclusive birthday boy, dressed in crisp, black robes that make him appear to be paler than he actually is. When his face coils into a sexy smirk, I rapidly come to the realization that the only danger lurking about in these halls is standing right in front of me.

As my knees weaken at his immediacy to me and my olfactory bulbs become more cognizant to the brand of cologne he's wearing, I know that, to me, he is the worst danger of them all.

Moments later I find my voice, it's weak, "S-shouldn't you be—the party's out there, why are you here?"

"Au contraire," his smirk is evident even in the dimly lit hall as he presses my body against the wall, and his against mine, "The party is about to be right here."

Draco's eyes never leave mine, not for a moment, while his hand search his tailored robes briefly for his wand. He mutters an incantation that makes the wall open into a room I have no choice but to go into. With a wave of his wand, the lights come on, dim, and I find myself in awe of this small, immaculate private library with emerald green walls and rich, wooden floors. Rows of perfectly organized books on cherry wood hand-carved bookshelves, a matching desk and chair, a few chairs, and an emerald green couch complete the room.

In front of the desk is a great fireplace that strangely reminds me of the fireplace in the Gryffindor tower.

"You can come in, Granger."

Oh, I know I can, I just don't want to.

I stand stoic in the doorway.

"Alright then, since you plan on being difficult tonight…" Draco places his wand neatly on his desk, loosens his tie, removes the jacket to his dress robes, and calmly approaches me, the sole of his expensive dragon-hide shoes echoes through the room with each step he makes towards me.

When he speaks next, his voice is hushed and I feel it against my neck, just below my ear, "Are you enjoying the party? Is it to your satisfaction?"

To my satisfaction? Do you see what I mean about mixed signals? Since when does he care about my satisfaction?

"It's certainly g-g-grand," I curse myself internally for stuttering in his presence.

"Wonderful," is his cool reply, lips centimeters from my neck.

The smell of his cologne mixed with something that oddly smells like cake and firewhiskey. It's all so consuming, so volatile. He touches my shoulders with tense hands. I imagine I look like his hands feel at this very moment, the only difference being the tears that threaten to hinder my vision.

Still, I refuse to cry. Not in his presence, never. I will never give him the satisfaction of knowing he can sprout such intense emotions in me.

As his hands travel down my arms, move in and down the contours of my body, I want to run, I want to walk away, I want to tell him no, but I can't even move, much less speak. I hate he is the only man who can do this to me, the only man I want to do this to me. I wish he would just get it over with, get his itch scratched, so I can walk away forever and not look back. I wish he would just do it because right now I want him to. I want my thirst quenched too.

The door closes behind me and I know what's about to happen…and I let it.

Because this is the last time this will ever happen, I've made up my mind.

With a small, low groan Draco's lips touch my neck and sometimes I wish his lips were touching mine, but they never have. As he sucks on the flesh on my neck, I come to the realization that maybe it's a good thing we've never kissed.

Kissing, to me, is much more intimate, much more passionate than sex. Kissing someone, to me, is a raw and personal connection that's based on trust and emotion. You can shag anyone; it's just the movement of your bodies, grunts and groans and moans. But kisses…kisses are…you don't kiss just anyone. You don't let just anyone invade something so personal like your mouth.

If I ever kiss Draco, I know, it will be disastrous for me. It will wake the sleeping dragon inside me, one that needs to lay dormant for as long as possible…

Draco stands there, running his hands up and down my body, each time moving just a little lower. He moves down to my breasts, just below them, cupping them over my thin robes, lifting them. I strain up into his hands as my body betrays me, wanting more. He moves to my waist, hips, everywhere. I open my eyes, looking at the ceiling through lidded eyes. I manage to lose the tears just when he traces his hands over my breasts again, meeting at my collarbone, forcing me to look into grey eyes.

One by one, he begins to undo the tow of tiny black buttons that grace the back of my dress, patiently. As the sleeves of my dress begin to loosen, revealing more skin, he tugs my dress and it falls in a heap around my ankles, leaving me exposed in front of him. I should be cold, but his body keeps me warm.

Draco bends and kisses each inch of exposed flesh as he smoothly works his way out of his own clothes.

He is a master at soft kisses. He showers them over every inch of me until I don't think I can stand it a moment longer, and then he starts all over again, feeding gently on my neck while his hands fondle and pet me. There's something about the air in this room, the warmth of his body, the proximity of him, something about this all makes me hazy and slow, and something about this that calms me and makes me want him not to hurry up any longer.

The couch is adjacent to the door and the next thing I know I'm being lifted off the floor and placed on the couch.

When he spreads my legs and slips a finger inside me, my skin hums as my hips move in rhythm with the pace he's set, his long, pale fingers touching deep inside me, thumb teasing my clit. My mind is overwhelmed with sensations, my lips are moaning uncontrollably; I'm trying desperately to forget all these new feelings because tonight is all about making a clean break from Draco Malfoy.

It doesn't take long before I feel the familiar tightening and know what's to come; I throw my head back, lost in this wild abandon, waiting for the waves created by the movement of his fingers to crash over me. I'm right on the edge, I feel it, the release is palpable, I reach to grab it, but suddenly his fingers withdraw, and it leaves my body, humming, wanting, and very unfulfilled.

Cursing him darkly; my eyes shut tightly, "Draco…please?"

"Just hold, patience is a virtue…" he mutters huskily. He always says that to me when in actuality Draco is the most impatient person I know.

Trust me, patience is a virtue I have in abundance; it's the reason I've stayed so long. I'm sick of having patience.

Lifting me slightly, my hands reach for the back of the couch, stabilizing myself just as he enters without warning, filling me deeply and fully…all thoughts about patience and staying and reasons fly from my mind.

Gasping, I clench to him tightly, panting and breathing unevenly. No one else has ever filled me like this, no one else has ever had me on such an edge, trust me, I've had enough experience to know Draco's body is a perfect fit. It's like a glove the way he fits me. He stills himself for what seems like an eternity, allowing himself and my body to become accustomed.

The dim lights are his spotlight and my eyes are on him.

He is quite a sight to behold with the body of Greek god, a smile that charms many, and a set of deep grey eyes that would tell many stories if he didn't block everyone out of them. The person who said the eyes are the windows to the soul must have been observing Draco Malfoy. For a moment, I want to strain to see those windows, wanting to know what secrets I can find out now while he's in the throws of passion, but I don't. I can't. Because he starts this perfect cadence that makes me strain against him.

My eyes flutter shut and I feel more than I see him move, holding my body in place as he sets the tempo. My legs are weak, arms that grip his waist are weak like butter; I need his support because I'm lost in every ounce of sensations coursing through my body.

I hear him moaning, feel him shaking, and when he stops, I don't know what he's doing, I just know that he's stopped what my body longs for him to keep doing. Suddenly, he releases me; the connection of our body severs.

"Open your eyes. I want to see your eyes."

So I let him and he fills me once again, this time he moves within me with quick strokes. The expensive couch creaks, stirred by his actions. Those fingers of his splay across my stomach and drift lower, capturing my clit with his thumb, teasing it mercilessly as he moves against me perfectly.

My body is suspended in a feeling I don't want to describe. My muscles are tense but I feel relaxed. My breathing has ceased but I don't need air. Something deep inside me is building it starts as a small flicker of warmth and grows into an inferno. I can't control the sounds spilling from my lips, the moans, his names, words I've not muttered until this night.

Lips are pressed tightly together as the tremors turn to quaking, the build up inside me approaching its peak and I grip his arms, wrap my legs around his, everything. He's moving faster, eyes shut now as if he's having a peaceful dream.

"Granger," he whispers, not breaking the rhythm, "What do you want?"

I don't have to tell him, I think my moans tell him enough, but still he already knows what I want, and he obliges to my silent demand, plunging harder. Each thrust I feel a tightening deep within me. With each thrust, muscles tense more. With each thrust, knuckles turn white as I dig nails in his skin. All I hear is our rapid, shallow breathing, our moans echoing off the walls, pure sensations.

Each thrust, I feel him become more frantic, hear his moans increase, feel him start to shake. It's a certain moan he gives off when he's about to orgasm. It's almost like a deep groan, like he's taken a bite into something that's really superb.

When I hear that moan, I lose it…and he does too.

* * *

_I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly,_

_I'll do what it takes, 'til I touch the sky, and I'll_

_Make a wish, take a chance, make a change, and break away_

"_Breakaway"—Kelly Clarkston_

_(Fifteen minutes later)_

We lay there in silence for several minutes, our bodies still as one. It's only when our breathing returns to normal that he disconnects us. I find myself whimpering because veracity is returning, and I never really want it to. You see, in a perfect world we would lay like this all night, but sadly this is reality, and in reality we are nothing but an occasional fling.

As we dress, I'm more determined than ever to sever this destructive…whatever this is.

"So," his remote voice startles me from my thoughts, "Why are you leaving? And be honest, Granger. Don't give me any bullshit about your passion to become a healer either," Draco sneers, "You may feed everyone that lie, but I know its complete bollocks, all of it, and you know it. You didn't even want to be a bloody healer until after we started sleeping together."

Fixing the last button, I turn to face him; head held high as I reply as cold as he sounds, "What I want to know is why you care, Draco? It's very unlike you to give a damn about anyone other than yourself."

"Touché, Granger, touché."

Emotionally, I raise my voice, "I am not selfish, you are! You're such an asshole. Fuck you."

"You already did that," he smirks boastfully.

"I hate you." I speak aloud, unintentionally, but secretly content that he's heard those words.

Draco's entire demeanor changes into something I don't recognize. It's a face I've never seen before. Disbelief is the only word that comes to mind. This is definitely new for him.

Women don't hate Draco Malfoy; they love him, they adore him, they aspire to shag him, they aim to marry him, they don't hate him.

Quickly, he regains his composure, "You do? Well, life goes on."

Of course, he succeeds in adding insult to injury.

Congratulations, Draco, would you like to rip me apart some more?

Blind with rage, my voice raises to the point where I'm almost screaming at him, "Fuck you. I don't care. Leaving is my choice," I taste defiance in my mouth, "I gave you my letter of resignation months ago, you never even bothered to ask, you never said a word, so why bother to ask me now, why, Draco?" blatant anger taints every stressed syllable.

Nastily, he sneers, "I don't have to answer that."

Firing back, "And I don't have to answer you. I'm sure you already have some theory conspiracy worked up anyway."

"As a matter of fact—"

"Save your breath, I don't give a shit. Chalk it up to whatever you want, I don't care. I'm leaving," I start for the door.

Draco grabs my arm roughly, voice threatening, "What? Where are you going?"

Mad as hell, I throw his arm off me, seething, "Get away from me, Draco."

What little color is left in his face is rapidly leaving, but he caustically spits, "You don't mean that."

I laugh. It's bitter and void of feeling, even though I'm nothing but feelings, especially for him.

I stand my ground, as hard as it may be, "Don't you get it? This, whatever the hell this is, it's done. We're done, Draco. I hope you enjoyed tonight because you'll never have the opportunity to touch me again. So go, go find another whore to start shagging, find as many whores as you want because I'm not going to be your standby bitch anymore."

He stands stoic, staring at me with slightly narrowed eyes, but his voice is oddly vulnerable, "You can't just walk away."

"Oh, I can't?" I chuckle ruefully, "Just watch me."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling owns everything.

Author's Note: Wow thanks for all the positive reviews. I'm glad you all liked it and I'm glad some of you picked up on the panic in his voice even though I tried to make him as subtle as possible. Happy reading!

Thanks to MusicalCatharsis for her beta work for this chapter!

* * *

_I've been thinking about everyone, everyone, who look so empty_

_But when I look at the stars, when I look at the stars,_

_When I look at the stars, I feel like myself_

"_Stars"--Switchfoot_

_(A month later: July 9th)_

The summer morning sky is a hazy, polluted orange and red sky, randomly dotted with fainting stars…

…and I really don't plan to see the morning sky today.

Don't get me wrong, I am very fond of morning; enjoy it more than any other part of the day. I love nighttime, but mornings hold the presage and the potential of a new day. Despite the early morning smog and the fact that I feel under the weather because of this persistent summer cold, I have to admit that this morning is a particularly nice summer morning and I can tell it's going to be another nice day.

The sun rises above the horizon and a warm breeze blows the trees and my hair. It's now mid-morning and instead of being in bed, like I want, I'm walking the streets in Diagon Alley with Pansy and Ginny. Today is my first day off from St. Mungo's since I started working and after spending every free moment of last week sleeping, they really want to spend today out.

And though I'll never admit it to them, it really does feels so wrong to be inside on a day this magnificent.

I meander, stopping often to stare at the sky and the bustling pedestrians heading to work and preparing for their day, much to the chagrin of Pansy who constantly grumbles in an irritated manner, "Would you please hurry up?"

While she and Ginny are in a broom shop, I wait outside, taking a deep breath of almost fresh air, smell the food from the restaurants, candy from the shops, smoke from the joke shop's firework display, and…too bad the combination of those strong smells make me a bit queasy…

I frown when they lead me into a dress robes shop.

"So, what exactly are we doing here?" I ask aloud; a few witches look at me warily.

"Well," Pansy starts, tucking her black hair behind her ear, "I'm taking you shopping for some new robes."

Glumly, "What for?"

"As a get well gift. You've been under the weather lately so I decided to do something nice for you."

Yes, and dragging me out the bed at the crack of dawn for new robes is exactly what I need to get over this bloody cold.

Why not some more pepper-up potion? I ran out last night.

Ginny snorts humorously, shaking her head. I don't believe this Slytherin's reasoning for one bloody second, "Right, Pans, and since when do you do anything that doesn't at least benefit you somewhat?"

This evil little smirk creeps across her face, "Okay, you caught me…so my intentions are positioned a bit in the selfish region, but that doesn't mean I don't care…"

Music…someone is playing the guitar.

I forget about intentions and shopping and evil smirks and focus on the music.

…it reminds me of the summer I spent in Verona when I was ten.

Stopping, I close my eyes for a few minutes, listening and reminiscing.

The moment is mine to seize so I put this into a mental scrapbook I keep. It holds all the exceptional times for me, from childhood, through Hogwarts, after the war, right up to the present. Good times, when I feel on top of the world, invincible, overflowing with life.

I have to admit there aren't a lot of them; I presume there aren't supposed to be, but this is one of them. This moment right here is full of promise, makes me feel right with everything, and makes my problems, authentic and superficial, seem like nothing at all.

When Pansy and Ginny each grab a hand and pull me out of the entrance and into the robes shop, I allow myself to smile at the new happy memory…

…and while I'm getting fitted, I let my mind to drift through the last month.

The move is uneventful and with magic and good friends, it takes me about a day to unpack everything, including the kitchen, living room, and dining room. Ginny is a borderline slob and lazy…so it takes about a week and a half for her to unpack just her bedroom…and that's only because Pansy and I had an intervention and did it for her while she was at the market getting crisps…

"'Mione?" Ginny calls tearing me from my silent reverie.

Without giving it much thought, "Never heard of her."

"Quit playing games, Hermione, you've been in there nearly fifteen minutes, come out and let us see what you look like." Pansy tells me, trying to be firm, which is impossible because I can hear the smile in her voice.

"I'd rather stick my face in a blender. I don't feel well and here I am trying on robes, this is the most ridiculous—"

"Don't be so dramatic."

"I'm not," I grumble, pushing open the door to let them take their once-overs. I don't think they fully comprehend just how irritable and tired I feel. Between working and everything, I don't sleep much. And because of this cold, there is nothing more I want other than to spend the day in bed sleeping and catching up on television.

"You look…" Pansy's eyes trail up and down, but focus on my face for a moment before finishing her statement with an extremely disappointed look on her face, "Sick."

Clapping for effect, "Ding, ding! Someone give this woman a prize." I do my best imitation of a game show host, perky and with a crooked smile, and then deadpan my next words, "Guys, I feel like crap."

"You were fine this morning…okay, just one more store and we'll apparate you back home…"

My mind drifts to the Friday after the Draco's party when we (Ginny, Pansy, Luna, and I) decide to get together and celebrate the move and everything else with junk food and movies in our new flat. We have a lot to celebrate, it seems.

(1) Luna is spending the rest of the summer in Sweden hunting for crumple-horned snorkacks with her father before she takes a job as a magical plant and animal researcher for the ministry. She still believes in the existence of all those creatures, but I think she really likes spending time with her father most of all. Since she moved on her own and he started dating again, Luna doesn't get to see him as often as she likes…

…Luna makes sure to send lots of pictures and gifts and we promise to keep her up to date about everything.

(2) Pansy is starting a new relationship with some French wizard, Pierre something-or-the-other she met while visiting her grandparents in Paris. Pansy has had so many boyfriends that by the time I learn their names she's already dumped and moved on to someone else. The men she dates are always gorgeous, the kind you see modeling in Witch Weekly (some of them are models), but that's to be expected. Handsome men love women like Pansy: she's beautiful, rich, skinny, and extremely funny. I'm really glad Ginny and I became friends with her…

…and, actually, now that I think about it, she's not even with Pierre anymore.

(3) Ginny is launching of her dating career where she plans to not-exclusively date three men a month until the start of playoffs in Quidditch, which is in about nine months, dropping and picking up new men at will. She's always been a bit of a serial dater, even back at school, but it stopped with Harry. Now that they are separated, men are lining up to take her out. After a thorough screening process, she already has three men lined up for the month of July: Seamus Finnigan, Anthony Goldstein, and Ernie Macmillan…and she's been out with Seamus and Ernie once already this month…

…not to mention, she's scoping for August.

(4) As for me, I'm celebrating my freedom from Draco. I told them about everything that happened and when I spoke about walking out, they cheered. We all did. I can't say that a month has changed my feelings for him, it hasn't, but what I can say is that I feel more human than I have in years. The first month of my new life has me falling into a routine…

…and it's wonderful.

I get up in the morning, jog with Ginny and Pansy at the crack of dawn (something I haven't done in the last week), come home and have some tea. I go to work, take my lunch and either meet up with Pansy who works part-time as the hospital's receptionist (she doesn't need the money) or Ginny who likes to drop by when she's not practicing. I get off around four o'clock, the three of us go to dinner at this bar and grill near our flat in muggle London, Pansy usually walks home with us when she's not going out, and we chill together until it's time to go to bed. Pansy either floos home or stays the night, Ginny answers owls from fans, and I practice a bit of yoga before I go to bed.

It varies from day to day, but all in all I'm having a good month with my best friends…

Today, I'm not.

"One more store" has turned into five and Pansy has about eight new dress robes. I have none. Ginny is even yawning. Now she's looking for a book. I somehow manage to tame my annoyance by hunting down a book for myself to read when I'm back in bed. I get so lost in my quest for the perfect book that I run smack into one of the employees.

"I'm sorry. I was just coming to see if you needed any assistance." He smiles and before I can fix my lips to reply, he continues, "Do you need any help?" his words are agonizingly slow, like I'm fucking stupid or something.

Even though my blood boils, I hold the book I'm perusing up and force my lips to curl into a polite smile, "No thanks. I got what I came for," no need to scare the kid with my bitchy attitude. Not today at least. I immediately swing on my heels and walk to the register.

"How are you today?" The guy at the register asks, animated.

"Pretty well." I sit the book on the counter just as Ginny comes to stand by my side, yawning. I smirk to myself.

"I think Pans is ready to go," she informs.

Smiles, "Well, thank Merlin for that miracle."

The guy at the register looks at my book, flips it over, and reads the title aloud, "The History of Scandinavian Magic, volume 12. Is this for school or something? I didn't even know we carried this book…or that it has 11 volumes before this one."

Ginny's eyes go wide and my blood goes from heated to boiling.

Of course, I'm still trying to play it cool. For additional support, Ginny's hand is now on my shoulder, silently telling me not to kick his arse. I'm really trying not to, but there is something in my head rhythmically bellowing, "Kill, kill, kill…" I don't know where all this rage is coming from, it's not like me to be so angry over nothingness, but I forgo all things logical and let my temper build.

Edgily, I reply, "Yes, well, I'm a voracious reader…"

He's still looking at the title with amazement, "Old ladies with cats probably read this book."

My temper spikes. This uncontrollable rage hits an apex. Yes, this is the last fucking straw.

Dropping my voice to a volume only he and Ginny can hear, I lean forward on the counter and speak my next words, very darkly with clenched jaws, "Listen here, you little piece of fucking shit. I came here to buy this book, not to get your inane and pseudo-scholastic opinion on it. So tell me what I have to pay and put the book in a bloody bag before I jump over this fucking counter and shove your balls up through your throat," and lean back.

Ginny's mouth drops with a quiet, "Holy shit."

With her words, the guy quickly snaps out of his own shock and begins to bag the book.

"That'll be five galleons, two sickles, and three knuts."

I hand him exactly what he asked and he hands me the bag.

He stammers, "Y-you have a nice day, ma'am."

Flashes a fake smile, "Oh, I will…thank you."

On the way out, I notice someone reading a Witch Weekly article about Malfoy Lending Company…

…and it sprouts my first thoughts of Draco today.

Now that I'm not his senior financial analyst, I'm no longer getting owled messages in the middle of the night for randomness that usually I have to get out of bed for and floo to his house to deal with because he sleeps so little, I'm no longer looking over my shoulder to see if Draco is lurking, no longer do I have to listen to women talk about their unsuccessful plans to get him in bed, no longer do I have to watch them flirt with him, no longer do I find him sitting at my desk in the morning with a cup of my favorite tea, no longer do I have to deal with the mixed signals he gives off, he's not quiet with me anymore, and I'm no longer his spare bitch.

Great, huh?

Yes, yes it is.

But sometimes, parts of me miss him.

I know, it's silly, but I do. He represents a large portion of the last three years of my life; I'd be lying if I said I didn't at least think about him.

I think about him when I look on my desk and see that letter his owl dropped of the Monday after his party; the letter I haven't bothered to read.

Sometimes, when I'm lying in bed at night, I think and wonder if we're capable of a friendship. If he were anyone else I've had a fling with, I'd say yes, we're capable of being friends, their body language tells me so, but with him…he's the only one who gives me nothing to go on.

I don't know if he thinks I'm funny. I don't know if he thinks I'm a cool person. I don't know if he feels anything for anyone, much less me. I don't even know if he thinks my ability to regress to the mental age of fourteen is endearing or obnoxious.

So, for those reasons, my answer is no. I can never be friends with him.

Ginny says she ran into him in Diagon Alley two weeks ago while shopping for new dress robes.

She says he asked about me. Of course it was in his own roundabout method, which really meant they chatted about Quidditch until she casually and quite on purpose mentioned my name and he offhandedly asked in that annoyingly unemotional voice of his, _"Oh, how is…she?"_

Which is exactly what happened.

What can I say? I know this man like I know the freckles that adorn my shoulders.

See, I half-expect something like that to occur, but what I don't expect is Draco informing her that his company has decided to sponsor for her Quidditch team and that he purchased new Quidditch equipment for the Holyhead Harpies.

He asks for our address to connect to our flat so he can floo over some of the equipment that's been delivered to his home.

I've never heard more bullshit in one sentence in my life. It's the most absurd thing I've ever heard and I'm kind of worried that he's losing his touch.

Still, as she tells me this, my eyes go wide, my heart races…until she says she gave him the manager's address instead, using the excuse that we have no room to store any equipment. Whew!

However, I wonder what exactly that suspicious Draco Malfoy is up to…sneaky little ferret.

* * *

_Cause I'm not here to be around_

_Be that girl you that you forget about_

_Cause all I want is just to be song_

_That you can feel longer than just right now_

"_Be the Girl"—Aslyn_

_(A week later: July 18th)_

Pansy is always late.

It never fails. I'm always fifteen minutes early and she's always twenty minutes late. Sometimes, I tell her she needs to be somewhere an hour earlier than she actually needs to be, but she still manages to show up, not just that hour late, but the twenty minutes too.

So when I sit down at the table with my peppermint tea, I blow the steam in confidence that by the time she gets here, my tea will be cold and possibly gone.

I'm lost in thought when I hear a calm, cool voice speak above me, "Someone sitting here?"

My entire body goes rigid at the sound of his voice.

Before I can verbalize my protest, Draco takes the seat across from me, coffee in hand, looking perfect, poised, and just as austere as usual.

He's in all black. He always wears all black and everytime I see him, I find myself curiously thinking, how is it that he stays so cool?

I'm thinking he must have some sort of coolant charm on his clothes because I'm wearing much less and sitting inside, right now, I'm hot.

He doesn't grace me with eye contact for the longest and seems to find something outside tremendously interesting.

All my focus is on drinking this cup of tea because he makes me feel so insecure. Watching him sit there and stare out the fucking window makes me nervous in a way I haven't been since I walked the halls of the school I attended before Hogwarts, when my paranoid, puberty-ridden self knew that everyone was staring, not because I was cute or charming, but because I wasn't good enough.

With him, I've never felt good enough.

With him, I feel a variety of emotions.

I feel childish, annoying, needy, obnoxious, unworthy, unimportant, and insignificant.

And maybe he's trying to make me feel like this, maybe he's trying to degrade me, trivialize me, and make me feel irrelevant…and it works. Because now I'm sitting here in front of him and, even though I feel like crap, all I can think about is if my clothes are right, if I look good, if my hair is too frizzy, what he thinks of me…

"Have you started your new job?"

My head jerks up to find grey eyes piercing right into me, I clear my throat, "I have."

Casually, he takes a few swigs of coffee, "Do you like it?"

In a small voice, I answer after taking the last sip of tea, "It's very gratifying."

His voice is chilly, "Are you drinking chai tea?"

"No, peppermint tea," I reply, eyes stuck on the table.

Thinly, "Are you sick?"

"Just a summer cold, why do you ask?"

His even voice gives me the chills, "I know chai tea is your favorite and I was about to offer to buy you another cup…would you like another cup of peppermint tea?"

Oh, sweet Merlin, he knows. He knows something as insignificant as my favorite tea.

He knows…

…no, this is just another one of those mixed signals and he'll probably be ignoring me in a few minutes. So, I won't pay attention to it, I won't let it sweep me up, I won't be foolish. I'm more level headed than this. I'm not the girl who gets swept up in crap like this. So I force all those thoughts out my head and give him a short nod.

Minutes later, I have a full cup of peppermint tea with all the right fixings. I take the first sip that tastes even better than the last cup, "Thanks."

After a few moment of tense silence, he asks, "Do you like your new flat?"

"Yes," and while he's on the topic, "Ginny told me the company is sponsoring the Holyhead Harpies and about the new equipment you bought."

"We are. The decision was made the Monday after you left. Do they like the equipment?"

"Yes, from what I can tell, they do."

This time, I look away; focusing on a tree outside the coffee shop, the kids walking, everything, just to take my mind off of this awkward conversation. I pray Pansy will just appear and make this all stop. It's another two minutes before I decide to look at Draco again. His face is twisted and it looks like he's intent on discussing a very serious subject. I can't tell if that's his real intention or if he just looks normal, but I hold my breath anyway, praying he isn't going to unload his girl problems on me.

Anything but that.

Abruptly, he sits his coffee down, "Can we cut the bullshit for a moment?"

It's not just his question that stuns me; it's his tone, the restlessness in the sense that he smooths his hair down, the fact that I see and not just hear his frustration.

He's frustrated?

Lovely.

Of course, I maintain my composure and take a long sip of tea, "I'm sorry, what?"

Curt sigh, "We've been dancing around the issue at hand and quite frankly, I don't like to dance."

I feign ignorance and reply very mockingly, "Forgive me, this summer cold has me a little—foggy…so if you could explain to me why you look and sound so frustrated about dancing, then maybe I could help."

Draco flexes his hands and I know he's irritated. I don't think I've ever seen him as anything other than composed, severe, and stoic.

But right now, the aggravation and frustration is very palpable.

Good.

"I was talking about this issue…you and me."

Watching him with rather dull eyes, I tuck my hair behind my ear and take another taste of tea. I'm silent for another moment before I retort in seemingly bewildered tones, "I'm sorry, Draco, but I didn't recognize there even was an issue between you and me."

Firmly, he sips his own coffee and scoffs, "I didn't either until you shouted at me about not wanting to be my whore, stormed from the room, and made damn sure I had no way of getting your new address."

Glaring icily, "I think the term I used was, "standby bitch" Draco."

He ignores my correction, takes a nip, and moves on with ease, "Did you get my owl?"

"Yes."

"Did you, I don't know, read it?"

Truthfully, "Didn't feel it was necessary."

Coolly, but with a hint of anger, he inquires, "And why not?"

"Reading your letter is a major setback in my plans to rid you from my life."

"Hmph," He looks thoughtful for a moment, "So I was right. All this change was about me."

Petulantly, I cross my arms, "Oh, don't be so bloody egotistical, Draco."

"Fine," he fires back, "I won't be egotistical, if you stop being so bloody stubborn and tell me what the hell is wrong, why you insist on running from me. I had to follow you from St. Mungo's to—"

Wait, what?

Incensed, "You followed me? Are you stalking me now or something? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Just like always, when I'm up in arms and mad as hell, he sits there like nothing is going on and speaks calmly, "You didn't leave me with many options, Hermione."

I'm rapidly losing control over myself, "You don't deserve any options; you don't deserve anything! Last I checked, I hated you…and you didn't care. Life goes on, you said…and you're absolutely right."

Draco takes a moment to straighten the container with the little packs of sugar, making sure it's perfectly aligned with the small bowl of half-and-half and the napkins. Even this little act of dismissal sends my brain in a whirlwind of rage and offense. I feel that oh-so familiar rise in blood pressure as my blood starts to boil. When he finishes, Draco looks at me for a few seconds.

Leisurely, he speaks, "I just wanted to know what was wrong."

My temper is rising like molten lava in a volcano that's about to erupt, "I wouldn't have to tell you what's wrong with me if your head wasn't shoved up your arse 24/7. You know nothing about what goes on around you I find that a bit on the pathetic side. You know, of all the inconsiderate, selfish, and childish—"

He snorts, "Childish? Guess you know all about that, huh?"

I feel that volcano erupt suddenly in my head and all I see is red. Wild with rage, the echo of my slap reverberates all over the coffee shop, causing heads to turn to see the origin of this disturbance and tiny whispers and looks from other customers. Wearing a noticeable hand-print on his pale face, Draco shows very little emotion while I'm red hot with the heat of anger across from him.

He takes another sip of his coffee and checks his watch before standing and speaking very stiffly, "Are you done having your puerile little temper tantrum? If so, I have a meeting," he tosses a few muggle dollars on the table and walks out.

* * *

_I'm not crazy. I'm just a little unwell_

_I know right now you can't tell…_

"_Unwell"—Matchbox 20_

_(Four days later: July 22nd)_

"That's it?" Ginny asks incredulously as she stabs the bowtie noodles on her plate, looking at Pansy who's eating her chicken salad conscientiously with a growing pile of cucumbers and onions on a little plate. She's on the hunt for another onion, spots it, makes a face and uses her fork to extract it from her salad and add it to the pile.

We decide tonight is the perfect night to try a new restaurant for dinner. It's Friday and in spite of the incident with Draco, it's been a good week. I'm going to be on my own this weekend because they are going out, for sure so tonight is our night and we're eating at the family restaurant next door to the bar and grill.

Pansy was just telling us how she met this good-looking muggle guy during a random shopping trip with Daphne Greengrass when he so rudely started making catcalls and wolf-whistles at them.

"Yes, that's it." Pansy replies simply, sipping her water with lemon.

Confused, "You didn't hex him or anything?" I question, dipping my spoon in chicken noodle soup, not very hungry. If there's one thing I know about Pansy Parkinson is that she doesn't appreciate rude guys. When provoked, she is a force to be reckoned with. Her temper is worse than Ginny at her finest and mine at my most epic, though after the incident in the bookstore and a more recent incident on the elevator in the mall yesterday, she would beg to differ.

"No, I decided to spare his life. I'm too pretty to go to Azkaban."

Ginny smiles, "So, you didn't cuss him out or harm him in any way?"

Pansy just stares at her before laughing, "No, you make me out to be some sort of monster."

"Well…"

I chuckle when she swat Ginny's arm in protest, "I know that I can be a bit, umm…" she rakes her fingers through her black hair, searching for the right words.

"Bitchy?" I offer with a shrug, pushing my bowl of soup away, not interested in touching it.

There's a glare right before Pansy clears her throat, "Thanks, Hermione, I was going to say difficult."

"Oh, difficult?" Ginny scoffs sarcastically, "Right, okay." She pauses for a moment and gives Pansy a look that tells her to continue. So when it becomes evident that she needs prompting, Ginny speaks up, "So…what happened?"

"He was an obnoxious jerk…let's just say that the conceited smile was suddenly smacked right off his face—"

"I thought you didn't harm him."

"_I _didn't."

Now we're both confused, "What? You said—"

"I didn't do anything. Daphne did. Marched right across the store and slapped the—"

"Greengrass slapped someone?" Ginny exclaims, "I thought she was all anti-violence and eco-friendly."

"Well, she had a lapse back to the day she slapped Blaise for screaming her bra size to everyone in earshot at dinner in 5th year. I really thought I was going to have to put her in a full body-bind to stop her from kicking this guy's arse."

Ginny cracks up, "What I would give to be a fly on the wall at that store."

I just sit there; quietly chuckling at the mental image of the scene plays out in my head. Daphne has always been some sort of feminist, always ranting about how it was unfair that a man runs the entire ministry of magic, that women have to suffer monthly at the hands of a man, and how men get to be fat and disgusting but women have to be pretty and petite to get dates…thus, I can say that Daphne has never had a boyfriend. She's kind of anti-men these days, but I suspect she's as scared of them hurting her as they are of her.

A lot of men are intimidated by a powerful woman, that's something we all know, but sometimes, Daphne intimidates me, especially when she goes off on one of her tangents…

"So," Pansy's voice interrupts my thoughts, "Hermione, do you feel any better?"

"Not particularly."

"Are you sure it's a cold?" Ginny wonders.

"I'm positive…I've had enough summer colds to know what it feels like. Albeit, this is one of the worst ones I've ever had, but still…I mean what else could it be?"

She shrugs and finishes her food.

Pansy's still observing me critically and takes a drink of lemon water before she concludes, "You look like shit."

Glaring, "Why thank you, Pans," I sit my spoon down, sarcastically biting, "that's a wonderful thing to say."

Brashly, she shrugs as if she knows she's telling the truth, "Well, you do…" She looks in my almost full bowl, "Why don't you really eat something? You're probably just hungry." Pansy's offhanded suggestion makes Ginny's eyebrow shoot heavenward.

Shrugging, "I'm not, actually…I've eaten a little of this, but I'm not really hungry."

"All you eat is toast and even that's on occasion…and all you drink is water, sprite, and tea…that can't be good."

Sarcastically, I respond, "Well, at least I'm hydrated."

"Nobody likes a smart-arse, Hermione…I'm just a concerned friend. You've lost weight." Pansy gives me a very motherly look, while she reprimands me like a child. I really feel sorry for her future children and I'm starting to thank the stars that she doesn't want them. You see, it's Pansy's way or the highway, nobody can tell her anything.

And since I'm in no mood to spar it out with her, I compromise, "You're right…I'm probably just hungry."

So I start eating, even though my body screams that I'm making the wrong decision.

Even though my stomach feels like I'm on a rollercoaster that lurches uncontrollably. Somehow, I manage to finish the soup, talk a bit longer, pay, and leave. Pansy, satisfied by my eating habits, decides to walk back with us to our flat. I want to apparate because I feel so bad, but I know its tradition, we always walk.

Pansy is the first to speak, "Okay, so I've been thinking—"

"Gosh, I knew I smelled something burning!" Ginny laughs at own joke.

I smile.

Pansy deadpans, "Funny, Gin, real funny…anyway, I've been thinking about seriously dating someone."

I stop dead in my tracks, "I'm sorry, what?"

Ginny looks to the sky as if she's trying to spot a specific star, "I think the world is coming to an end. Are there pigs flying?" she turns her gaze to Pansy, "Quick, owl your mum and see if hell has frozen over."

"Why would my mum know if—" Pansy frowns, "Not funny, Ginny."

"Well, I thought it was," she chuckles and continues with the truth, "you know your mum is the devil's most loyal subject…she won't even let Hermione on the property because she's not a pureblood." Pansy agrees with a truthful nod and shrug that meant, 'what can I say? She's my mum'. We start walking again and Ginny changes the topic back, "So, why do you want to get serious with someone?"

"Gifts," is her quick and simple reply.

"I'm sorry, what?" I repeat.

"Gifts, Hermione, gifts. I was in the store, picking out this goblin necklace for me and I ran into this guy who was buying his girlfriend a gift to show his appreciation and that's when it hit me. It was like enlightenment. There, I realized that the longer you date someone, the better the gifts are and the more gifts you get. There's anniversary gifts, Christmas gifts, 'the day I met you' gifts, random gifts, 'thinking of you' gifts, thank you gifts, birthday gifts, and Merlin, if we get engaged, we get gifts from everyone!"

She's totally serious. Of course, Ginny and I exchange looks.

"Pans—" I start to reprimand, but my stomach does this violent heave and I press my hand to it. I clear my throat and start again, "You—" Another reel. I close my eyes and will myself not to throw up here and now.

"'Mione, are you okay? You look a bit green…"

"I'm fine, I just—"

The next thing I know, I'm on my knees, painfully puking up everything I ate in the grass two blocks from our flat, whilst Pansy shrieks, "Yuck! Oh, my god! So gross!" and Ginny holds my hair back. When I feel there's nothing left to come up, Pansy looks around, whips out her wand, and mutters, "scourgify" and "tergo" to clean the mess and me up. She uses a charm to clean my mouth while Ginny sits on the ground next to me, rubbing my lower back, and Merlin does it feel good.

I close my eyes, drawing my knees to my chest and resting my head on them as she massages my aching lower back.

"You weren't kidding when you said you didn't feel well…maybe I shouldn't have forced you to eat. Sorry about that." Pansy mutters, making a face that really does make her look like a pug.

"It's okay, really." I mumble, relaxed.

"Do you feel better?"

More mumbling, "Kind of."

Ginny stops massaging and I suddenly want to throttle her, "Hermione, how long have you been sick like this?"

Distracted and a little woozy, "I don't know, almost a month."

"Symptoms?"

I look at Ginny like she's crazy, "Interested in a career as a healer or something?" When she gives me a stern glare, I sigh and list them off, "My muscles hurt, it's mainly my back and it's kind of dull, I threw up yesterday morning and just now, I'm really tired all the time, and everything smells funny—"

"Let's not forget the mood swings," Ginny interjects, "You uncharacteristically slapped Draco and cussed that guy out at Florish and Botts—"

"And that man on the elevator you almost hexed!" Pansy exclaims, suddenly remembering the incident I want to forget.

Ginny raises an eyebrow. She doesn't know what happened. "Anything else?"

I reply glumly, "No."

Pansy speaks up in a humored voice, "Sounds to me like you're pregnant…I hope you're not pregnant…wouldn't that be the worst thing ever? Getting fat and peeing all the time."

I let out a rueful laugh, "Please, that's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said. I can't be pregnant. Let me refresh you on the facts of life, you have to have sex in order to get—" My mind drifts back to Draco's birthday party and I gasp, "Oh...shit!"

* * *

_Is there anyone out there?_

_Cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe._

"_Harder to Breathe" Maroon 5_

_(Thirteen and a half minutes later)_

Pansy slams the front door and comes scurrying into Ginny's bedroom with two bags, out of breath.

"Okay! I got the test. I didn't know which one to get so I got one of each," and my mouth drops as she proceeds to dump at least thirty pregnancy tests on her bed. The second bag has a cute pair of muggle jeans she saw in the store window she passed and just had to have because they made her arse look phenomenal.

Yes, she is this ridiculous, but I love her to death.

Ginny, who's carrying the second half a gallon of orange juice, stops dead at her door, "Holy shit, Pans, did you clean them out?"

"The lady did look at me funny, now that I think about it…I should've confounded her arse, hmm…"

I can literally see Pansy making a mental note to go back to that drug store and handle business.

She chuckles, sits the orange juice on her counter, and picks up the first box, hands it to me, and points in the direction of her bathroom, "Now, follow the directions and don't freak out, okay…"

It's not like I can, I was freaking out so badly by the time we got home Ginny has to force some leftover calming potion down my throat and a half a gallon of orange juice as a chaser.

Let me say that I just know this is all really ridiculous and a waste of our time. We could be sitting in the living room watching television now, laughing…

…this has to be a summer cold, seriously. I can't be pregnant. I've just managed to get away from Draco Malfoy for good and I don't think I should be punished by being pregnant with his child. I'm a good person, damn it, I follow all the rules, I donate galleons to the poor, I help out the underprivileged any way I can, I'm a good person.

There's just no way in hell that I can be pregnant.

A gallon of orange juice, seven cups of water, a entire roll of toilet paper, and seventeen positive tests later leave me sobbing on the floor, face in hands. It's well past midnight and Ginny is patting my back, while Pansy paces, reading one of the boxes more intensely than I've ever seen her read anything.

"Oh, come on, not all of these can be positive! It doesn't make sense!" Pansy argues, "No offense, Hermione, but you can never fully trust these muggle contraptions."

Sniffling, "None taken."

"I've read about them. They're not totally accurate; they give out false positives all the time. You're probably not pregnant, 'Mione, this bloody stick is probably the one that has it all wrong…all seventeen of them."

Ginny is thoughtful for a minute, "Well, there is a magical test we can do. It's completely accurate."

I look at her hopeful through teary eyes while Pansy scoffs, "Why didn't we do it first?"

Shrugs, "Wasn't thinking about it, sorry. There are some dream and memory side effects—"

"To hell with the side effects, let's do it!"

I desperately agree.

A minute later, after digging Ginny's wand from the discarded pregnancy test boxes, scraps of papers with directions on them, and just the usual junk, we convene in Ginny's bathroom. She opens her medicine cabinet and I see a row of the same potion. Merlin, there has to be at least twenty of them. Blushing, she picks one out and hands it to me.

"Damn, you've got an arsenal of pregnancy test potions in there, Gin…" Pansy comments, snickering.

Her blush spreads when she mumbles, "Sometimes Harry and I forget...they're for just in case..."

Pansy coyly remarks, "Yeah, right, keep on telling yourself that Ginny and maybe one day you'll believe it."

"Shut up, Pans…drink that Hermione."

I open the cap and drink it. It tastes like mud and aluminum.

Pansy taps her foot impatiently, "What do we do now?"

"We wait for five minutes before I say the spell."

So we wait in silence and it's quite possibly the worst and most torturous silence I've ever had to endure in my life because I've never been on such an edge. My silence is more of an agitated silence because Pansy insists on tapping her feet and humming a weird sister song I especially despise. Ginny is staring at her watch.

One minute.

Pansy sighs.  
Ginny starts restlessly bouncing her leg.  
I pace the length of the bathroom.

Two minutes.

Pansy files her nails.  
Ginny stares at herself in the mirror.  
I sit in the corner with my head on my knees.

Three minutes.

Pansy checks her face for zits.  
Ginny plays with my hair.  
I sigh.

Four minutes.

Pansy starts chewing bubble gum.  
Ginny massages my shoulders.  
I close my eyes.

"Five minutes!" Ginny exclaims. Pansy spits out her gum in the trash, I scramble to my feet.

We stand in the center of the bathroom while she whips out her wand. I'm quite possibly the most nervous I've ever been, so nervous that I feel a bit lightheaded.

I don't hear the incantation she mutters, but about three seconds later, her wand lights up.

Pink.

Confused, "What the hell does that mean?"

Pansy and Ginny exchange looks, Pansy goes pale and Ginny clears her throat, "You're pregnant."

Everything goes black.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling does.

Author's note: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews from both new and old reviewers, thanks for the criticism and pointers, really :). I'm trying to make this as far the typical pregnancy story, promise. Some answers will be answered in this chapter, some people will get mad, but I just want you to keep reading. It'll all work out, promise. I'll update chapter 4 A.S.A.P. On to chapter 3. Hope you all enjoy it! Read and review, as always, peace!

* * *

_Where has my heart gone? _

_An uneven trade for the real world_

_Oh, I, I want to go back to_

_Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all._

"_Field of Innocence"—Evanescence_

_(The next morning: July 23rd)_

There are two paths in front of me.

One is colorful, rich with green grass lacing itself into a golden trail of neatly bedded flowers and trimmed bushes. Trees are everywhere, fruitful and alive. Life. This path is bustling with life. Rabbits hopping everywhere, squirrels scampering up trees, and birds chirping harmoniously. The sun is shining, making the golden road sparkle and shine. It's beautiful. It's tempting. It's perfect. It's everything I could've ever wanted. I smell the fruit from the tress and it beckons, it calls…

A gust of wind directs my attention to the other path. It's dark, bare, and cold. The trees are molded and decrepit and nearly falling apart. Death. This path reeks of death and horror. Dirt and headstones line the path and this incredible and overpowering stench gets into my nose and settles. There is no sun. There is no sky. There is nothing here to direct my path…still; I take a step towards it.

"_Don't do it," a squirrel whispers in a horrified voice, "Don't take that path. It's hard. Go this way, it's easier."_

I'm far too rational to listen to a talking squirrel, dream or not.

So I opt for the second path because as when I think about it, I realize the dead side, though it looks terrible now, it will inevitably be better…and it is. There is nothing here to break my concentration and deep down I do like to take the road less traveled. I don't know what directs my path, but I walk.

I stumble onto a book. It's my Charms book from first year. I eagerly reach for it and I find myself standing in the kitchen to my childhood home, school things packed and ready to go to the platform 9 and ¾ for the first time.

"_You have to be the best, Hermione," my dad preaches,__"You're not like them; you don't know as much as they do, this is a disadvantage so you have to be the best. Grangers aim for nothing short of perfection. Make me and your mum, rest her soul…make us proud."_

I've spent my entire life aiming to make my dad proud and somehow, no matter what I do, I always feel like I fall short. I feel like a disappointment even though I've done so much in my 21 years. You see, it's always been me and dad. My real mum died in childbirth and he remarried when I was eleven. I think he blames me sometimes for mum's death…and looking at me makes him feel sad because I look so much like her…he told me that much when I turned eighteen.

Backing away from the book, I've lost my interest in reading…so I keep walking, walking away from the memories and the realization that the relationship between me and my father has always been on thin ice.

Next, I come across a closed envelope with my name scribbled across the front in familiar handwriting. I know exactly what it is; it's the letter still sitting on my desk.

But how did it get here?

My hands graze the writing and I'm taken back to the night of Voldemort's demise. I'm standing in the Astronomy tower with Ron and Harry; the three of us are bruised and beaten, but smiling triumphantly. The door opens and in walks Ginny with Draco and Pansy, one who changed sides in secret a while back and the other who came back to fight after wanting no part in war.

_Harry is the first to sigh, "I need a vacation."_

One by one, the reserve starts to break and all of us start to laugh, except one, who cracks a smirk.

Ron is the first to leave, followed quickly by Ginny and Harry, who are hand-in-hand. Pansy lingers for a moment longer, but sees her reflection and decides that she needs a bath and makes a beeline to the prefect's bath. Draco and I stand in silence.

When we're not fighting, we're in silence; it's kind of always been like that.

But then I feel his fingers, fingers that graze mine ever so slightly before they grasp my hand gently. I look at him in surprise, but he's staring straight ahead, poised and serious, as if our hands aren't entwined, as if he doesn't feel the heat between us.

So I stand there too, for the longest, before he clears his throat.

"_Granger," his voice is very solemn._

_Startled, I peer up at him, "Yes?"_

"_You have a spot of dirt on your chin."_

I think that was the beginning for…whatever we were.

Two weeks later, the ministry had control of the dementors. A month later, his parents were put on trial. A week later, they were found guilty. The next morning, before they could have the kiss performed, they were both found in their cells, dead. Two weeks later, the Malfoy manor was torn down.

The next year, after a mutual and peaceful breakup with Ron, I received an owl from Draco after no communication since that night in the Astronomy tower, offering me a job as a financial analyst. He wanted my help in the horrendous process of fixing his father's corrupted lending company and would pay me over 400,000 galleons a year, which is an exorbitant amount. Three days later and after heavy deliberation and Pansy's incessant, _"he's paying you __how__ much?"_ I agreed to the terms.

That agreement brought...whatever we were back from the grave.

I back away from the note, almost regretfully and turn away, almost running away…

…I nearly slip over a patch of water, but it still manages to make me fall to my knees.

My knees.

I was on my knees when Draco touched my hand the next time. I'd just walked away from a fight with a past boyfriend during the company Christmas party. Upset and blind with rage, I bumped right into him and fell to my knees. Of course, at the time, I didn't know it was him. I looked up to apologize and found Draco standing there with his hand extended, waiting for me to take it. It was the most captivating sight I've ever seen and I felt like I was in a trance. I take his hand slowly and he pulls me to my feet.

"_Are you alright?"_

"_Yes."_

We slept together the first time that night. One second we were walking back to rejoin the party after I assured him I was fine, and the next he was pulling me into one of the boardrooms, picking me up and putting me on the table, and shagging me for all he was worth. It was hasty, impetuous, and it was the most liberating experience of my life. The entire experience was a haze I can't blame on any amount of alcohol, a head-to-toe rush of feelings that left me wanting more.

He was unlike any other man I'd been with: strong, solid, guarded, and mysterious.

When he touched me, my body lit up.

When we were together, it felt like nothing I'd ever felt before.

And when it was over, my body missed him.

It still, on some level, misses him, even to this day.

Of course we didn't talk about that night. He tried to discuss the topic with me days later, but I didn't want to hear the word, _"mistake"_ to come from his lips so I didn't let him say anything…but we had meetings in that boardroom for the next two months and everytime my face was on fire.

I pull myself to my feet and run away. I don't like this dream anymore.

It makes me think about all these things I haven't thought about in years. It makes me feel all these feelings I haven't felt in years. And it hurts. It's painful that I feel so intensely for him, even in the depths of my dreams. I run and run until I can't breathe any longer and I realize that no matter how long or hard I run, he will always be there. This realization only makes me run harder.

I run and run until all I see is pink…_pink?_

Reality comes slowly.

The warm breeze in the room rustles the covers that surrounds me. Cool sheets caress my skin and I stretch, extending my arms and legs to their fullest before pushing myself up into a sitting position. Blinking, my eyes slowly roam my bedroom, looking for anything out of place. There is nothing. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and pop my knuckles. I feel pretty good, actually. What _day_ is it?

From my bed, I hear maintenance people pruning shrubs, shaving bushes, and mowing the lawn outside our flat. I hear people chattering as they go through their lives. I hear cars, bells, whistles, and I close my eyes, relishing in the noises of a normal London Saturday.

And then it's violently interrupted by a knock on my door.

"Why are you _knocking?_" I hear Pansy's muffled voice outside.

"Because—"

She cuts Ginny off, "Just open the bloody door," and before I can chuckle at their ridiculous arguing, the door opens and in walks a nicely dressed Pansy Parkinson and Ginny Weasley, who is still in her pajamas, yawning. When she sees me sitting, they both grin. "You're awake!"

My eyebrow rises, "Yes I am, thank you for pointing that out, captain obvious."

Pansy sticks her tongue out at me in response.

"How childish," I rub my aching side, making a face when I feel a little pain in my back and my stomach starts to grumble. I ignore it, but Ginny raises an eyebrow because she hears it. "Guys, I had a bunch of weird dreams last night, but the last one was funny."

Ginny sits on my bed while Pansy goes in my closet, as if she's picking out clothes for me. I pause for a moment, look at her crazy, and shake my head. Why bother, that Pansy is a batty one for real.

"What was it about?" Ginny asks curiously as she points her wand at my hair and makes it smooth down into a neat ponytail. I shoot her a crazy look, what the hell is she doing?

"Well the first few dreams were all these flashbacks in my life, but the second one…it was hilarious. I threw up after dinner and we came home and I took like _seventeen_ pregnancy tests and they were all positive," I chuckle, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of this dream, "So we went to the bathroom and you gave me this potion and did some charm and it glowed pink and you said I was pregnant for real," by the time I finish, I'm laughing.

Pansy tosses a pair of jeans and a t-shirt on my bed and stares at Ginny with wide eyes, "What the—"

"I told you all about the dream and memory side effects."

She scoffs, "I mean, you could've been a little more specific, Gin...you didn't say she'd wake up with—"

Confused and annoyed that neither of them are laughing, "What the ruddy hell are you going on about?" I ask with an attitude.

Ginny starts calmly patting my hand, "Hermione, that last bit _wasn't_ a dre—"

Pansy cuts her off brashly, "You're knocked up, mate."

I search Ginny's eyes for the longest, hoping to see that twinkle that tells me she's playing a practical joke on me.

I don't see it. Not at all. She's not kidding.

Nauseated by the news and everything else, I turn my head from Ginny and proceed to be sick all over the floor.

Pansy squeaks, "Oh, that's just nasty!"

* * *

_I wanna be there for you_

_Someone you can come to_

_Runs deeper than my bones_

_I want to be there for you_

"_There for you"—Flyleaf_

_(Noon that day) _

The last time I went to a muggle doctor was before my dad took me to Morocco right after the war ended.

I took one good look at the needle they wanted to stick me with and passed out cold. My step-mum caught me halfway down and we both bumped our heads on the floor. I haven't been to one since…

…until today, that is.

I'm not as famous as Harry or Ron, but I'm rather well-known in the wizarding world so we can't go to St. Mungo's or any other wizarding hospital in the area. I can't go to my family doctor because he's my blabbermouth uncle who tells his wife everything…who tells my dad everything…and this is a big enough headache as is.

So, the three of us use our brains and come to a mutual decision that it's best to do this the muggle way, at least at first.

Coincidentally, Pansy dated a rather dull cardiac surgeon, Peter, who has a brother who is a general practitioner, who still _really_ fancies her. So she calls him and chats for a few minutes. A few giggles and a promise to have dinner with him later on tonight and he's swayed to convince his brother to see me today as a huge favor…

So here I am.

Lying on an inclined table/chair in quite possibly the brightest room I've ever been in, dressed in a sheet like a mental patient, and highly irritated with everything, I stare at white walls with a pink and blue pastel butterfly border.

To my left is an ultrasound machine in front of a counter space with a slew of medical utensils and Pansy who is staring at everything in complete awe. She's never been in a muggle doctor's office before and I frequently have to tell her not to touch anything.

To my right stands Ginny, she's quietly looking around, just like me.

The door opens and in walks the doctor.

"Miss. Granger, I'm Dr. Rattan, what brings you here today?"

I'm instantly annoyed with his question. What the hell else would I be in for today? I'm sure Peter told him everything.

Stuffily, "I took a test and it said I was pregnant."

"From what my brother tells me, you took _seventeen_ tests…"

Ginny puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes; a non-spoken gesture of support that I need to stop myself from kicking this man in the face…because I really, _really_ want to.

I run my fingers through my hair in a tired, weary manner, "_Yes_. Is it necessary that you mention that?"

"It's just that these tests are fairly accurate and some of them are expensive—"

My fists clench, "Can we _please_ just get on with this?"

"Very well." He turns on the machine and Pansy stares at it in awe. Ginny has to make her move next to her so the doctor and I can see clearly.

Next he squeezes icy cool gel that makes me cringe and wince.

Thankfully Pansy picks now to entwine our fingers. Ginny puts her hand on my shoulder. Both for comfort. Both at the right time.

He swirls the instrument on the gel, cuts on the sound, and after a few minutes of searching, we hear this little swooshing sound. It's faint and I find myself intently staring at the screen.

"There," he points at the screen of the machine, "There's the amniotic sac," he then moved the instrument again and points to this distorted amorphous blob…_thing_ that I have to squint my eyes to see. Ginny moves a little closer and Pansy is just about on the bed with me. "And that's—"

Of course, Pansy interrupts very brazenly, "What is that sound? It sounds like a sea creature ready to attack."

The doctor chuckles, "Well, that sound is the heartbeat…and by just looking, I'd say you're about...most likely seven or eight weeks along, Miss. Granger."

Pansy gasps in shock, Ginny hugs me, and I…well, I do what any new unexpected mother does…

…I cling to my two best friends…

…and break down in sobs.

"Oh, Hermione, it's going to be okay." Pansy comforts.

For obvious reasons, I don't believe her.

"Don't cry. It's going to be fine." Ginny voice cracks and I know she's close to crying too.

It's really pointless when people tell me not to cry. All it does is make my body shake harder with sobs. I have every right and reason in the world to cry right now.

My life has taken a completely different route from the one I planned.

The doctor prints out a fuzzy 4-D picture of the baby, makes all the necessary marking on the picture, and hands it to me to stare at.

The thought of being pregnant does a slew of things to my emotions and my thoughts. It circles around in my head, confuses me, excites, strangles, suffocates, panics…this, no matter how unwanted, this is_ real_. Merlin, this really _is_ happening to me. The reality of this situation hits me so hard. Full-force. I can't breathe. But I don't even notice because if I did, I may ask for an oxygen mask...or a shock to the heart...or some form of revival.

Let's be real and honest right now, I'm not just pregnant. I'm pregnant by a man who will probably sneer in my face when and _if_ I tell him…that's also _if_ he doesn't deny it's his…I can see it now, clear as day in my head.

"_Draco, I'm pregnant and it's yours." _

"_That's nice…fuck you, it's not mine, get out."_

The thought breaks my heart and makes me cry harder.

"You know," Dr. Rattan interrupts my thoughts in soothing and comforting tones, "I _do_ have to inform you of your options because at seven weeks you are in the right time-frame to _have_ options, but you have two to three weeks to make an appointment and a decision about what you want to do."

Through bleary eyes, I hiccup a sigh, "A decision?"

I think back to that dream with the two paths; it's eerie that suddenly I now have two paths before me.

Which one should I take?

He turns the machine off and uses a warm towel to wipe the gel off.

Then, he proceeds gently and cautiously, "Yes, you have a decision. You have the right to decide whether or not you want to keep carry the baby to term or if you wish to terminate the pregnancy."

_What? Terminate the pregnancy? _

I know the look I'm wearing now is thoughtful, frightened, and very much confused.

"You don't have to make the decision at this exact moment, but you do need to make it soon."

Still lost in a trance, I nod slowly, wiping the tears from my eyes, "Umm…okay."

"But for right now, I have to treat you like you're keeping it. I'm going to give you a prescription of three weeks worth of pre-natal vitamins, which should be enough to last you until you make a decision either way. Take two everyday. I'm going to tell you _not_ to drink alcohol, smoke cigarettes or anything, no drugs, don't eat sushi. And I'm going to give you the number to a nice abortion clinic, if you decide to take that path. Tell them that I sent you."

Quickly, he writes the prescription, hands me a few pamphlets on pregnancy and abortion.

With a wish of good luck, he leaves and holds the door open for Ginny and Pansy to leave me while I dress.

After dressing, I stand in that spot, staring at the ultrasound picture while tears cascade down my cheeks…

…that is, until Ginny sticks her head back in. Meekly, she inquires, "Are you alright?"

Sounding about as drained as I feel, "As okay as I can be right now."

"Pansy called Peter and they left to go and pick up the prescription because she doesn't know how, they should be back in a few."

Wearily, I sigh, "Okay."

"It's going to be okay, you know…this may seem like the end of the world, but it's not."

Sourly, "Sure does _feel_ like it."

Ginny comes in and hugs me tight and more tears fall as I embrace to her tightly, "No matter what you decide to do, no matter what happens, I just want you to know that, Pansy and I, we're here for you."

"You're damn right, we are, don't you ever forget that," Pansy's audacious voice rings out from the doorway,

We look over, and there she is, prescription bag in hand. Next to her is Peter, who looks like a TV doctor because he's so attractive. He shrinks back and gives us a few moments alone. Smart move.

She's smiling brightly, "Well, well…this looks like a _fine_ moment for a group hug," and runs over to throw her arms around us both, making us laugh, "I love you guys…but sadly," she whispers her next words in a tone we can only hear, "I have a dinner date with mister boring Peter and I need a new dress, you're lucky I love you, Hermione."

This certainly _does_ make me feel better.

* * *

_Feel your heart, it breaks within your chest now_

_Try to get some rest now_

_Sleep's not coming easy for a while, child._

"_Down"—Something Corporate_

_(Later that afternoon)_

It's going to rain.

From the window behind Ginny's head, I see blue skies begin to darken and puffy white clouds turn a threatening shade of grey. She canceled her lunch date with Anthony to spend the afternoon with me and even though I protest, I really appreciate it. I don't think I need to be alone.

After my first dose of vitamins, I feel a little bit better and after sitting in on Ginny's short Quidditch practice, we get massages from a little spa that makes me almost feel like a whole person again. Now, we're sitting in this organic restaurant just outside London; she's munching on a salad because she's trying to drop a few pounds for Quidditch and I'm picking around the edges of a half-eaten club sandwich.

We haven't spoken much since leaving the doctor's office; my mind has been all over the place. Everything is at a standstill, it seems. I keep thinking about those paths and which one I should take. Should I take the easy way out or the make the hardest decision of my life? Easy is starting to look better and better with every passing minute.

The restaurant, lit by solar power, grows slightly darker as the sky does. It's probably time to go so I ask the waitress for a box to go and our check. "So, I think I'm closer to making a decision." I speak up when our waitress walks away after delivering the check.

Curiously, Ginny pays with muggle cash and looks up at me, "About?"

"I'm thinking that I may not keep it…I don't completely know yet, but that's my gut feeling. I shouldn't."

The heavens rumble just before they seem to open and torrential rain starts to fall, accompanied by a bolt of lightning.

She says nothing for a few minutes, startled by the storm, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I am. It may be selfish, I know that I should just keep it and make the best of a bad situation, but I don't think I can do it. I'm finally free, Ginny. I'm back in control of my life. I don't think I can look at this baby and not be a tad resentful and that's not fair, not to this baby and not to anyone in this situation."

Ginny takes a sip of her water, "Are you going to tell Draco?"

I pull a piece of lettuce from my sandwich and eat it, before replying honestly, "Gin, I really hadn't planned on it."

For the first time since we've known each other, Ginny criticizes me, "Hermione, this baby is just as much his as yours; he has a right to know."

Her disapproval hits me where it hurts and I don't know if the pain is from heartburn or from the truth.

Still my name is still Hermione Granger…and I'm stubborn, "But it's in _my_ body."

Rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "That's not fair, Hermione, and you know it."

Shit. She's right. Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_. She's right and I know she is. I can't deny it. I know I have to tell him. It's the right thing to do and clearly I love torturing myself…okay, so I'm being dramatic, which is not me, but there is this little voice inside me that reprimands even the _thought_ of not telling Draco about this pregnancy.

Ginny just gave that voice a face.

I don't think I could go through something like this and _not_ tell him. But how do I walk up to a man I slapped the hell out of a few days ago and tell him I'm pregnant and considering the thought of giving up his baby without starting a fight and possibly a war?

With any other man I'd know what to do, but not with Draco Malfoy.

Taking a deep breath, "Ginny…what do I do?"

"Owl him, Hermione…give him our address and let him floo over, sit him down, and just tell him…I'll make myself scarce. I'll call one of the guys and get them to take me out or something."

"He's probably going to walk out."

"But at least he'll know…and then it'll help you make the right decision."

I snort, very unconvinced.

"Or," she starts to rise from her chair and I follow suit, "he may want to keep it. You never know."

Laughing, "The chances of Draco wanting this baby are slim. I've got a better chance getting struck by lightning."

I expect Ginny to laugh, but instead she's looking past me. Turning my head, all I see is a black belt, khaki pants, and a black shirt. My eyes drift upwards and standing there is the very out-of-place Theodore Nott.

"Hermione Granger," he greets me with a nod, then his eyes shift across the table, "Ginevra Weasley."

Tensely, "It's Ginny."

Ignoring the redhead's attitude, I paste a smile on my face, still pretty shocked to see him here, "Umm…what are you doing here, Nott?"

"I eat here all the time. I'm over there." He points to an empty table across the restaurant with a water glass. He clears his throat and proceeds, "I was wondering if you two would like to join me?"

"Sorry," Ginny replies in a cold voice she only reserves for Harry these days, "we're about to leave."

His face falls slightly, "Oh…oh, that's fine." He nods and quickly walks away…he almost breaks into a temperate run.

Amazed and trying not to laugh, we sit in silence for a full minute before Ginny remarks, "Well, _that_ was awkward."

I cover my mouth when I giggle.

* * *

_And, oh, oh, how could you do it?_

_Oh, I, I never saw it coming_

_And, oh, oh, I need the ending_

_So why can't you stay just long enough to explain? _

_"When it Rains"-Paramore_

_(The next night: July 24__th)_

I took the day off trying to prepare for tonight.

This morning, with Pansy standing over me helping me put my thoughts on paper, I write the letter and she sends it off by owl. I'm too sick to do it myself. It takes two hours to receive a response, saying that despite the fact that he has a meeting, he will be arriving by floo at 8:30 sharp…and if there's just _one_ thing I know about Draco Malfoy, it's that he's extremely punctual and hates it when people are late.

So, now it's 8:20. The floo is open. The rain hasn't let up. And now I've been baking everything in sight all day.

Chocolate chip cookies. Peanut butter cookies. Sugar cookies…with icing and sprinkles.

White chocolate cookies. Oatmeal raisin cookies. M&M cookies. Walnut cookies. Peanut brittle.

Cashew brittle. Almond brittle. Fudge. Brownies. Walnut brownies. Double fudge brownies.

Cheesecake. Strawberry cheesecake. Key lime pie. Apple pie. Cherry pie. Pecan pie.

As I stir, dramatically, I think of some freak accident happening and Draco can't get here by floo…and that makes me stir more vigorous, trying to push the thoughts away, but they never leave. I think about him standing me up. I think about being stuck here all night, waiting and baking and seriously panicking while he sits in his mansion, reading a good book and drinking his wine, laughing at me.

What the hell does it matter? I _still_ don't know what I'm going to say.

I've tried writing it down, making a list of things I need to say, but the words won't come. Nothing comes. I've never been more frightened in my life: not in front of dementors, Voldemort, Snape at his finest, death eaters at their worst, a hungry Nagini, Umbridge at her pinnacle…nothing has provoked such a fear in me as telling Draco Malfoy that I'm pregnant and possibly not keeping it.

Rain rolls down the windowpane in fat, fluctuating drop, tripping over dry spots and making that loud clattering noise that I find particularly bothersome.

I'm about to put up a silencing charm…

But then something happens.

An owl flies in through the open window and drops a letter at my feet. Quickly, I tear it open and read it:

_**Hermione. **_

_**I'm a little behind schedule, but I still will arrive at eight-thirty sharp. **_

_**Draco Malfoy.**_

I check my watch.

8:29…I think I'm going to be sick.

My heart just about stops when Draco steps out the fireplace, dressed in all black and face as serious as ever.

This is not going to be easy.

"Hermione," he greets with a short nod.

"Draco," I greet back, but my voice cracks, "W-w-would you like some tea?"

Regarding me with a curious stare, he pauses for a moment before replying. "No thanks…" he sniffs the air and I identify a hint of humor in his voice, "umm...why does your house smell like a bakery?"

"Did a bit of light baking while I was home," gestures to the couch with a plate of cookies on the coffee table, I offer politely, "Please, make yourself at home." I feel a little faint and grab the arm of the couch for support.

He sits and I reach for a cookie, freezing when he says, "You look pale."

"I'm a bit tired."

"Would you like me to—?"

"No, I, uh," I take a breath, "I wanted to apologize for slapping you. It was really uncalled for and completely uncharacteristic of me."

I see a barely-there smirk on his face, "Well, not really…"

"That was _3__rd_ year, Draco."

Shrugs, "It was still memorable. Blaise still talks about it. He saw the hand-print after all."

I chuckle.

"Did you ask me over here to apologize? Because of you did, it was completely unnecessary. I _did_ provoke you."

"True, but that's not why I asked you over," I sigh and take a deep breath, closing my eyes for just a moment. It's now or never.

So I blurt out, "Draco, I called you over here to tell you that…I'm pregnant."

Silence of a tomb washes over us and for ten seconds I wait in anticipation of his answer while he busies himself with everything from making sure the bowl is aligned perfectly with the candles to making sure he has no lint fragments on his clothes.

He stares at me intently before replying, "Okay…that sounds like a personal problem."

* * *

Well? What do you think?

Don't flame me about the abortion topic, it's a real choice pregnant women have to face every single day, whether you agree or not, it's real.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing, J.K. Rowling does.

Author's Note: So I was going to make everyone wait in suspense until Monday, but even I'm not that evil. Thanks for all the positive reviews and reviewers, both new and old. Oh and I'm very thankful for no flames. I personally straddle the line on this situation and it's really cool that you all put your own experiences into your reviews and I'm excited you all like the controversial direction this story is taking. Now, let the curse words fly. Happy reading everyone!

* * *

_Here I go, scream my lungs out and try to get to you_

_You are my only one._

_I let go, there's just no one that gets me like you do._

_You are my only, my only one._

"_Only One"—Yellowcard_

_(Moments later)_

"_Okay…well, that sounds like a personal problem."_

Those words flash in my head over and over.

Like neon lights.

"You know, Draco," I speak with a clenched jaw and blood that seems to be cooking to a nice boil, "I figured you'd say something like that," I stand straight, shaking my head, trying to calm myself, albeit pretty unsuccessfully, "I don't even know why I even wasted my bloody _breath_ to tell you."

He looks at me as if he's looking at me for the very first time, "Wait, it's _mine_?"

Sarcastically, "No, it's an immaculate conception, a fucking _miracle_…of course it's yours, you dolt!" I pull the ultrasound picture from my pocket. I've looked at it at least a couple thousand times, so much the edges are creased, but I glance at it for a moment and toss it at him dismissively. He's lucky I'm throwing a picture at him and not this platter of chocolate chip cookies...or an unforgivable, which is _really_ what I want to throw right now. "It's yours."

Draco stares at the picture, much like I did when Dr. Rattan handed it to me. It's nearly two inches from his face and his eyes almost cross to see the magnified blob that is our baby in the center. His eyes remain on the picture and slowly the stern look on his face melts into one I've _never_ seen before. It's one of awe, incredulity, and…wait just a moment, _fear_.

Fear.

I didn't realize that fear is an emotion typical of a Malfoy.

Of course, he's had moments of fear, but not around me.

He's always been a tower of strength and nerve.

Right now he looks like a deer in headlights.

Moments later, the mask and the guard go right back up and he's back to making sure everything on the coffee table is perfectly placed and organized.

I feel my blood pressure steadily rise and my cheeks flush from the heat of my rage.

Draco picks now to speak, but his voice sounds oddly strangled, "Are you sure this is mine?"

"Yes. It's yours," I rub my aching head, very sensitive all of a sudden, my voice breaks just a little, "You're the only one I've been with, Draco. I'm not some slag that sleeps around with every man I come into contact with." I shake my head sadly, eyes watering, "You know what? It doesn't even matter what you say…I've decided not to keep it."

Apparently that makes him lean forward in his seat, picture still in hand, and voice flat, "You're not keeping it?"

Looking down, I rest my hand on my flat stomach and use my free hand to wipe my eyes.

I'm lying through my teeth right now and I don't know why, "No."

Tensely, "Why not?"

"Don't act like you give a shit, Draco. It's a mistake. Just like that night was, just like every other encounter before that night was."

He glances down at the picture before meeting my eyes, "You really believe that?"

Emotionally, "I don't know where I stand with you…I never have. And you've done nothing to prove otherwise."

Intensely, he shoots words so nasty and cold I nearly fall over from the force, "And_ you_ never let me _try_ to tell you where I stand with you so don't sit here and play the bloody victim."

I'm desperately trying not to scream and cry in front of him, "Look," I start, voice dejected, "I'm tired, I'm cranky, I've been baking all fucking day, and I don't want to argue with you tonight. I don't know…I, this is a huge decision for me." Positioned just in front of the coffee table, I rub my temple in a circular motion just like Pansy advises, "I was just trying to be a good person and let you know, and that's all. I felt obligated to tell you and now that I did, I don't know why I even wasted my breath and your time, I'm gonna kick Ginny's—"

Interrupts, "Well, does my opinion matter? I _am_ the father, after all."

"Actually, it doesn't, not to me, not now. I've heard enough of your opinions to last me a lifetime. This is my body and I'll do with it whatever the hell I want and I don't want to bring a baby up in…whatever the _hell_ this is. I don't. I just don't. It's just not fair to it, you, or me."

He stands up slowly, still holding the ultrasound in his hand, "Just—"

Frustrated and fuming, "Why are you fighting this so hard, Draco? This is _my_ personal problem, according to you."

He looks down at the picture as he speaks coolly, "I admit that wasn't the best reaction..."

"No shit, you git, you always know just what to say to make me feel like a peon," I mumble angrily, "But thanks for having that reaction, Draco, it makes it slightly easier to make my mind up."

Silence falls between us.

I find myself staring out a window next to the fireplace and he's still staring at the ultrasound like Ginny and Ron study Quidditch books. I want to pull my hair out and scream,_ "It's just a 4-D blob on a film,"_ but I can't formulate the words, I'm so tired and weak.

So now, I look out the window, watch the rain, and sigh, because looking at him will make the tears start up, and it's so much easier to watch the clouds cry.

Twelve minutes later, I glare at the rain.

Maybe if I hadn't gone. Maybe if I'd just stayed with the dry and condescending Theodore Nott. Maybe…it doesn't matter anymore.

I can blame anything, I can blame anyone, I can ask _"what if?"_, but it's all in the past. This is now.

Glancing over my shoulder, I observe him for a full minute while he tidies the end table for a few seconds and stares at the picture for a few seconds, methodically switching between the two. I turn away. I really hate it when he does that. All the arranging and organizing. Maybe he does it to keep from going insane, maybe it's one of those nervous habits, maybe he's obsessive-compulsive, I don't know. I just know that he's so pristine and perfect and methodological…it's really annoying.

And now, staring at the rain, I'm not sure whether I'm annoyed with his habit, or whether I'm just annoyed with him.

I'm just fucking annoyed.

"Hermione…" Draco breaks the silence.

I turn around and he's staring at the ultrasound, "What?"

Another pause, he takes a breath and looks up, determined, "I want this baby."

Wait…do I need to clean my ears out? Did he just say—of course, he didn't—_right?_

Stunned, I stammer, "D-did you say you w-want this baby?"

Confidently, "Yes, I've been thinking about it and I do…I'm willing to do anything to change your mind."

"I don't understand, Draco. Help me understand why all of a sudden you want this baby."

He looks at me, a bit angered, "I never said I didn't want it. You just assumed."

"Wanting to take responsibility for your actions isn't something you're known for."

Heatedly, "Just like _you're_ not known for being very upfront."

Snap. The heat of my blood spikes, just like that. "_Upfront?_ I'm—"

"You're the most guarded person I know." Draco replies in matter-of-fact tones.

Folds my arms and huffs stubbornly, "Funny you should say that, I say the exact same thing about you."

"Let's not get off topic, Granger. I want to be a father to this baby. I don't want you to get rid of it just because you hate me. This baby deserves a chance."

We fall into another tense silence.

My head throbs from the tears of frustration building behind my eyelids and Draco is standing there, calm and gazing down at that bloody picture. I really want to choke him until he passes out. This mature, arrogant, responsible, look-at-me-I-want-to-be a-father persona, yes, Draco, this really works. Really well.

Thank you very much, Draco…I feel like a giant guilty arse about this entire situation.

Exhausted and ready to break down in tears, "Why do you want this baby? It's not going to fix anything."

Truthfully, "I beg to differ…after all, it may very well be the only child I'll have."

Scoffing, I lash out, "_Please_, I'm sure you have plenty of whores who are ready and willing to get knocked up by you."

That's like stepping on the trigger that detonates a bomb. All goes from tense to fucking impossible. With the 4-D picture in his hand, he fires a look at me that could kill and probably would. His voice raises several decibels and turns into an authoritative yell, "I don't know who the fuck you think I am, Granger, but I'll tell you something. I'm not some bloody man-whore who sleeps around with _filth_."

Of course, I'm right there, arguing back, "And I'm not exactly a_ pureblood_, Malfoy. In case years of working for you have brought about a sudden bout of amnesia, let me introduce myself to you. My name is Hermione Granger and I'm a mudblood. This baby I'm carrying, it's a half-blood. According to you and the Malfoy doctrine, me _and_ this baby, we represent the very _filth_ you disdain. And _I_ represent the filth you claim _not_ to sleep around with, but you do, and you did, every fucking chance you got."

For a second, I _really_ think he's going to strangle me, his hands are flexed and everything. He storms across the living room and the next thing I know, I'm staring up at him defiantly, but I'm literally trembling, shaking like a leaf.

Seizing me by the shoulders, Draco speaks very menacingly and _very_ angrily, "Pureblood, half-blood, mudblood, I think I've made it obvious that it doesn't mean a fucking thing. I fought in that fucking war, I fought against the very doctrine I _swore_ to uphold, and I fought for the rights and the freedom of half-bloods and mudbloods alike."

True.

Like I'm having some sort of fit, I push his hands off me, "W—"

He raises his hand to cut me off, "And do you honestly think that if I thought of you as some _mudblood_ that I would hire you, pay you more than the goddamn minister of magic, and put you in charge of over half of my company and its all its activities?"

Trying again to get a word in edgewise, "D—"

"I hired _you_ because you're Hermione Granger, everything you fucking touch turns to gold, and you get things done. And you know what, I did adhere to one Malfoy rule when I pursued and seduced you all those times. _One_: Malfoys deserve the best. You're not filth. Even my father thought so, mudblood or not, he always said you were the best…and you are. And this baby will be the best too."

"Is that all you fucking care about, Draco? Being the be-"

"No! That doesn't matter. I don't want this baby just because it will be the best; I want this baby because _we_ made it together and I don't want you to throw it away like garbage. I don't consider us or anything between us _garbage_, Hermione."

What. The. Fuck?

Astounded. Staggered. Dumbfounded. Nauseated. Destabilized. Flabbergasted. Confused.

Those are probably the words I can use to describe how I feel right now…but the truth is there are many other words and emotions running around in my head that I can't quite describe. I'm so overwhelmed by his words, so struck I can barely _breathe_. All I can do is stand here and let his words repeat over and over in my head, like a broken record.

Because we made it together? We're not garbage? I meant something to him?

It's quiet when he finishes ranting, except for his rapid breathing and my shaky sighs.

"W-what do you mean by that?" I stammer, trying to find my ground.

"It doesn't matter what I fucking mean," Draco spits coldly, "You've made your goddamn mind up about me when you didn't read the letter and now you've made up your goddamn mind about-"

Blindly, I wave my hands, "You can't just say something like that and not tell me what it means!" I scream at him.

"You're the brightest witch of our generation, you figure that shit out. I'm done trying to get you to understand how I feel about you. I'm done."

My vision is blurred by tears, "I don't want to figure it out, fuck, Draco, just tell me!"

He says nothing, just turns away from me, the ultimate sign of rejection. Still, I find myself quickly studying the angry man standing less than two inches in front of me, scrutinizing every single thing about him, and I come to the conclusion that Draco isn't the man I thought I knew. It suddenly strikes me how I don't know shit about him. He's a stranger to me.

"Draco, I—" somehow, I manage to find my voice through the unshed tears, but he doesn't let me say anymore.

With the picture in his hand, he storms towards the fireplace, leaving me to sit here and wonder just how everything turned out this way. I don't know what he's mad for. I should be the angry one. Nothing about tonight went the way I thought it was going to go. He was supposed to sneer and deny paternity; this was supposed to be an easy one-sided decision…

…and just like that, just like everything, it's all complicated and fucked up. Now I don't know left from right, up from down, it's all spinning and I can't hold on.

The dam breaks and I find myself shaking with sobs.

"Why?" I speak in a broken voice, tears pouring, "Why can't you just be honest with me?"

Just when he's about to grab some floo powder and step into the fireplace, Draco freezes and turns around, still very much heated and livid as ever, "I was honest with you, but you didn't want to read the letter! But fine! You want honesty, you got it!" He pauses and stares at me with cold grey eyes, speaking his next words with such intense anger and hate, "I don't even know why the fuck I'm telling you this, but let me be very clear about something tonight, Granger: you're the only women I've ever wanted. Just you. It's always been you."

Draco steps in the fireplace, drops the floo powder, and disappears in a burst of green flames.

When Ginny comes home an hour later, she finds me on the floor…dissolved in tears.

* * *

_Cause we are broken_

_What must we do to restore, our innocence? _

_And all the promise we adorn_

_Give us life again, cause we just wanna be home_

"_We are broken"—Paramore_

_(The next morning: July 25__th)_

Reality sinks in and I finally accept the truth about everything.

I was wrong about Draco. I was blind and stupid and I feel horrible.

Merlin, I spent so much time wanting to be something more to him and wanting to provoke something deeper in him. I spent over two years wishing my name invoked emotions in him…and it does. It always has…and I didn't realize I already was important to him. But this miscommunication isn't something I plan to take the blame for, it's both of our faults.

I didn't give him a chance, I didn't listen to all the things he didn't say, and I ignored all the things he _did_ say. I just held it all in until I decided to change my life to spite him.

But Draco didn't try, didn't drop his guard low enough to let me in, and didn't convey…well, _any_ of his feelings. He just held it all in until he combusted.

It may be the crazy hormones or the actual distress I feel, but I begin to cry, which turns into heavy sobs within seconds. I can barely breathe as my back arches and sinks with every labored cry. I'm in pain, and for some unknown reason, I wish for more pain, I want to make myself hurt so I stop thinking about Draco and his damn words. I want to make the picture of him disappear from my mind. I cry until my lungs hurt, my fingers cramp, and my back aches.

"_Shh,_" From the chair beside my bed, Ginny's comforting voice placates my sobs, diminishing them into small hiccupping sighs. She's been there all night just about, listening to me rant and cry. "Calm down," she brushes my hair out my tear-stained face, "It's going to be okay."

I really want to believe her, but I feel hopeless.

Wiping my eyes, I sigh and get out of bed and stand at my desk, staring at the letter Draco sent nearly a month and a half ago.

I gnaw at my fingernails, wanting to reach for it, open it, and read it, but I'm suddenly a coward.

My door makes a creaking sound when Pansy opens it. She just got Ginny's message and rushed from her mother's first chance she got to see me. She rushes over to me and throws her arms around me. I cling to her tightly for a few minutes before pulling away.

Angrily, "Wait until I get my hands—"

Resting my hand on her shoulder to stop her, I interrupt, "He wants the baby…and apparently me too…or at least he _did_."

Pansy's face goes pale and her mouth drops in shock.

"I know," I chuckle ruefully, "I looked like you did when he told me."

Her voice is shaky, "What are you going to do?"

"I honestly don't know. This is hard. Part of me is thinking, forget him and everything else and have this baby on your own, and the other part is thinking, why bother? My head is messed up, but my heart…" I trail off, tearing up.

She's nodding when her eyes catch the letter. Immediately, she recognizes the handwriting, "Have you opened it?"

Honestly, "I don't think I can, it's been here six weeks, but now it feels like the right time to read it." Ginny joins us at the desk and I look at her, "You read it, Gin."

"But—"

"Please, I can't do it."

Reluctantly, she sighs, picks up the letter, and opens it, pulling out the parchment slowly and unfolding it…

**Hermione,**

**I'm sure hours, days, weeks, and maybe even months will pass by before you read this, but if you are reading this I know that either your curiosity or better sense has gotten the best of your stubbornness…or we got into a huge row. I do not always articulate my feelings and I do not always say the right things at the right time and for that, I apologize. It is not in my nature to express my feelings verbally or be wax sentimental, but I think you should know that you are not a standby woman, you never have been, not to me, and I apologize if I ever made you feel as such. It was not my intention to make you feel less worthy than you actually are. You actually mean a lot to me, but I've never known where I stand with you. I think that we should start over and try again, maybe this time we can be honest with each other. **

**If you want to contact me, you know where I am.**

**Draco Malfoy.**

We're silent for what seems like hours.

I think we've all read the letter about six times apiece as if we're going to find all the secrets he wrote between the lines…and I'm not in the mood for any of this. Everytime I read his letter, I feel like the world's biggest git for not reading it earlier. And then I feel like a moron for talking to him the way I did last night. And then I feel stupid and mean. I feel like a bitch and my head hurts, my heart hurts, my stomach hurts. I just need to get my mind off all this.

So I sigh, "I'm going to work."

Ginny sighs, "Her—"

"No, Gin, I need to get out of this house. It's driving me bloody bonkers."

Pansy speaks up, placing the letter back on the desk, "Do you feel well enough?"

Stubbornly, "No, but I'll be fine."

Ginny takes one hard look at me, "Well, I'll fix some breakfast—"

"—and I'll go in with you. Take your vitamins."

I nod. I really do have some of the best friends.

Six hours later and once again, I'm sighing and running a hand through my hair. I'm fine. I have to believe that I'm fine and as long as I can believe that everything else is okay, or at least it will be. It has to be. I don't have any other options.

It's been a busy day for me and coming to work is one of the best decisions I've made thus far.

Lots of patients, lots of emergencies, and a few hurt Quidditch players…all that should equal no time to think.

And it does, sometimes.

I feel like the busiest woman in the world and still I feel like I have too much time to think about him and this baby and everything.

In the seconds I wait in the elevator, my mind drifts back to the argument in front of the fireplace. In the twenty minutes I sip on my tea and wait for the ever-late Pansy Parkinson, I think back to the day I slapped him. I'm sitting next to the very table where it happened. In the hour I have for break, my mind drifts to the picture of the ultrasound he took with him. I didn't need it anyway. I've practically memorized every feature of it.

No matter what I do, it seems he is always prevalent in my thoughts. I'm in a different part of the hospital every hour and still, I can't escape the memories…

I'm on rounds, checking up on the permanent patient when I bump into something or someone, hard.

Startled, I look up and there is Theodore Nott.

I plaster a smile to my face, "Fancy meeting you here."

"Yes, I was visiting my uncle. Do you work here?"

Nods quickly, "Yes, as a healer."

He mumbles, "Always thought you could do better."

Offended and aggravated and hormonal, "What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean? Being a healer is a _very_ rewarding and important job. If it weren't for me—"

"I just meant that I always pictured you as a dedicated ministry worker."

Snorting derisively, "I've _never_ worked in the ministry and to be honest, I never want to. I'll leave that to Harry."

"Oh, so you two are still friends?"

"Yes, of course, we're the best of friends still, even though so much has happened. Ron too," I feel myself getting a bit emotional at the thought of my boys. Damn pregnancy. I feel my eyes mist and I fan them repeatedly as I think about everything. I don't see them as much because we're all busy, but when we do see each other, it's like we've never been apart. Harry and Ginny's separation makes things a little more tense, but all in all, I'm not choosing sides and I'm not choosing between them. Ginny is important to me, as is Harry.

"Are you alright?"

I wipe my eyes, "Yes, just a bit tired."

…_and pregnant._

He steps closer and his cologne makes me want to vomit, "Would you like to go for coffee or something?"

"Sorry, I can't. I'm on rounds for the rest of my shift."

…_and I don't want to get belittled again, thank you very much._

A flash of disappointment streaks across his face, "Oh, well…would you like to go to dinner?"

"Again, sorry, my mates and I usually go to dinner together. It's sort of tradition."

…_that we're not doing tonight because Pansy and Ginny have dates and I have an appointment with my bed._

"I understand," another streak of disappointment, "well, what about Friday?"

Thinking for a moment on how to get out of this one as well and it flashes in my head, "I'm on call all night."

…_which is a total lie._

Borderline offended and angry, "I'm beginning to think you're making up excuses."

"Now why would I do a thing like that?" I ask innocently, lying through my teeth, "I'm a very busy woman and all."

Icily, "I _see_."

Confused, I ask boldly, "Well, why are you interested in spending time with me anyway?" folding my arms.

"You're easy to talk to, you listen."

…_that's all I can do with you because you make no attempts to hide that you don't care enough to listen to me._

I check my watch, I still have four minutes until I have to see my next patient, but I have to get away, now, "I'm sorry, I have to go see a patient. I'll see you around…" I give him one fleeting smile and head down the hall, almost running.

* * *

_Tell me what you think about, being open?_

_About being honest with yourself._

_Cause things will never be the same._

"_Honestly"—Cartel_

_(Five days later: July 30__th)_

Ginny invites Susan Bones and Katie Bell over for dinner after an especially rigorous Quidditch practice.

We're all pretty good friends so with my newfound energy, I decide to cook. Pansy nearly chokes when I tell her I plan to cook, but she's being dramatic, as usual. While Ginny gives them the tour of our apartment, Pansy and I chop vegetables for the vegetable fried rice dish I'm making. Every now and then, she'll peek into the oven to get a look at the chicken.

Satisfied, she goes back to chopping.

Pansy picks up another bell pepper, "How are you today?"

"Alright…except that I threw up in a patient's flower vase this morning, but I cleaned it up quickly before anyone noticed."

"Oh, that's just gross!" Pansy exclaims, blanching.

"I couldn't help it," I chuckle at the memory, "It was either the vase or the patient."

Pansy laughs and uses her wand to start boiling the rice. When she leans over my shoulder, she asks, "Have you made your mind up yet?"

Shrugs, "Not totally. Heart says keep it, head says no."

Thankfully, she changes the subject, "I talked to Blaise today."

My ears perk up at the very mention of Draco's best friend, but my response is very dull, "Oh, really? How is he?"

"Oh, _he's_ fine…Draco on the other hand—"

Looking at her, I raise an eyebrow, "What about him?"

Pansy doesn't look at me, instead she's busy chopping vegetables as she talks, "…he's not in a good mood. He fired some girl who tried to flirt with him and he refuses to hire anyone to take your place so he's working extra hard trying to do both your old job and his. Blaise says it's just a mess, not the business, _him_. Draco told him…about the baby. Showed him the picture and everything. Kind of looked proud about it…Blaise says he _really_ wants you to keep this baby, Hermione."

To be honest, I'm really surprised.

He isn't the type to misplace anger, he isn't the type to open up to his friends, and he's not the type to lose his cool over too much of anything. But he lost his cool all over my living room too so I guess I can't put too much past him these days. I knew he was upset about it, but I didn't expect him to run and tell Blaise. I'm really so stunned about all this that I don't even respond to anything.

I just keep chopping peppers and onions...

...and change the subject, "I read all the pamphlets the doctor gave me, I also went to the library, I've done research on both alternatives…and yes, I told Draco I made my decision, I wish I wouldn't have, but I was so angry at him."

"Well, I'm sure you'll make the right decision."

A voice speaks up from the doorway, "The right decision about what?"

I look over my shoulder at Katie and toss her a smile, quickly replying, "About whether to have ice-cream or cookies for dessert."

Katie looks at me disbelievingly for a moment before setting a smile on her face, walking in, and looking around the kitchen and peering over our shoulders to see what we're doing, "Well, cookies _with_ ice-cream sound good to me…do you all need some help?"

"Don't let her near that stove!" Ginny hollers from the other room and in a flash both her and Susan are standing in the doorway, "That's my only advice; don't let her near the stove."

My eyebrow rises, "Is there something I should know about Katie and stoves?" I wipe my hands with a dish towel.

Katie glares at a smirking Ginny and Susan who is silently shaking her head, before stubbornly replying, "_No!_"

Trying again, "Umm…Kate?"

"It was a _very small_ fire."

"Oh, I see," I look around at all the food and then back down to what I'm doing, "How are you at slicing vegetables for the fried rice?" I move away to offer the job to her. Ginny nods in approval and Susan smiles.

"I think I can handle a little slicing…" Katie blushes, "Oh, and thanks for not asking about the fire."

Smiling, "Not a problem."

Of course, the brash Pansy smirks, "Well, if _she_ won't, I will…what happened with the fire, Kate?"

"There was a pan, popping grease, a hamburger, and lots of flames," she slowly shakes her head as if traumatized by the very memory, "It was _really_ ugly."

"We know," Ginny smiles and gestures to her and Susan, "we were there."

I burst out laughing.

Feels kind of good to laugh about something because all I've been doing lately is crying.

We sit down for dinner twenty minutes later. While they all chatter on and drink their wine, I nibble on vegetable fried rice and chicken, drinking decaffeinated sweet tea.

"How was Parvati's party last night?" Ginny asks Susan, sipping on her wine.

We all were invited, but I wasn't feeling well enough, Ginny flat out didn't want to go, and Pansy was out on a date. Katie, apparently, didn't attend as well. I think what surprises me most is that Susan went. She's always been a bit of a quiet, slightly emotional wallflower, even in school. Over the years, we come to expect that at any social function, we can find Susan posted against the wall, observing everyone and shying away when any man asks her for a dance or anything.

"Nothing bad," Susan assures, "I even danced."

All our expressions are ones of pure shock, but Pansy's voice rings out amongst all our gasps, "You _didn't_?"

Pleased by our surprise, she nods eagerly, "I'm not kidding. I was just as shock as you all when he asked me to dance. Well, he didn't exactly ask. It was more of a statement." Susan is unabashedly giddy; wanting us to know every detail of last night, "He was all arrogant and that, like he knew he wouldn't have to ask me to dance, that I'd just simply fall into his arms or something. And, oh, Merlin, when he put his hands on my hips to help me. I was on cloud nine!"

Katie holds up her hands, "Hold on for a bloody second, mate! Who is _he_? And what do you mean he put his hands on your hips? Was he being fresh?" She says the last question teasingly, happy for her friend.

"Haha, I wish," Susan laugh, "I'd probably die of a heart attack if he did—"

Exasperated, Ginny throws her hands up, "Who?"

Big grin, "Dean Thomas."

If we aren't shocked before, we're completely stunned now. Ginny looks confused. Katie's eyes are popping out her head. Pansy's gulping her wine.

My jaw is practically in my plate, "Pretty boy, Dean Thomas? Ginny's ex-boyfriend, Dean Thomas? Are you serious?"

Susan nods, "He was talking to Ron and Seamus, looked over at me, walked over, and asked me if I wanted to dance."

"Wow."

"Yeah, a lot of people from Hogwarts came. Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Michael Corner, Cho Chang, Justin-Finch Fletchley, Lee Jordan, Harry and Ron were there too—"

Ginny tenses, but it goes unnoticed by anyone except me.

"—and Draco Malfoy was there too—"

This time I tense.

"What was he doing there? He _hates_ parties." Pansy remarks, looking confused.

"I saw him. He looked around for a second, talked to Blaise for a moment, and left. It was really odd."

"Yes," Pansy glances at me from across the table, "_Very_…almost like he was looking for someone?"

I kick her very sharply and she winces, pouts, and glares.

Susan snaps her fingers, "As a matter of fact, yes, he was."

I grimace when I meet Pansy's gaze. Our eyes lock, she smirks evilly, I look down at my plate. I don't know where she's going with this and I don't want to find out. I aim to kick her again, but I miss and give up, drink my water, and make sure I send a plethora of threatening daggers to Pansy with my eyes.

Katie smiles and after a few minutes of silence, she turns her attention to me, "Hermione…how far along are you?"

I spew water all over my plate…and Pansy's too.

Susan gasps.

Ginny laughs.

Katie smirks.

Pansy literally jumped from her chair, "What the hell, Hermione! I was eating that!"

Blushing and coughing to the point of choking, "Sorry Pans," She gives off a humorous huff and takes our plates to the kitchen while Ginny pats my back until I catch my breath and I smile shyly at Katie who's regarding me with a curious look, "I'm not—"

"Oh, bollocks, you are. I can tell."

"How can you—"

"My sister has seven kids. I can tell, even before anyone else can. You're drinking decaffeinated tea instead of wine, you're picking at your food, you hate Susan's perfume that you claimed to love three months ago, and you're kind of glowing…"

Well, I'll be— "Close to eight weeks, I think."

Susan gasps, "Hermione, you're _really_ pregnant? Wow, that's great! Congratulations!"

Mumbles, "Thanks, but I'm not sure if I'm keeping it."

"Why not?" asks a horrified Susan Bones.

"Loads of reasons. I have another week or two to make a decision."

"What does the father think?"

Numbly, I reply, "He wants to keep it...or he did the last time I talked to him,"

"That's good, right? Who is he?"

Pansy walks back in the room on this and sits down, wringing her hands innocently. Ginny and I exchange looks before I answer, "I'd rather not say…to be honest. I really don't want this to get out, in case I decide not to keep it."

"We can keep it a secret, right? We can do an unbreakable vow if you want."

My eyebrow rises, well, that's a bit serious. "That won't be necessary."

"We promise not to tell, right Kate?"

She raises her hand and puts it on her heart, "I swear."

"You two _can't_ tell a soul," I watch them nod their head. I take a deep breath and just blurt it out, "Draco Malfoy."

The sound of Susan's wine glass shattering against the floor echoes in my ear.

Once they recover from shock, they have a million questions for me.

Are we dating?

Do I think he will change his mind?

When did I find out?

When did I tell him?

What did he say when I told him?

Evidently, Katie _always_ thought something was going on between the two of us, but just didn't know what.

Glad that I've satisfied her curiosity.

I have to inform Susan that no, we are not dating and no, I'm not even certain I _want_ this baby.

She tells me, "between your intellect and wit and his attractiveness and charisma, this baby will be as close to perfect as humanly possible."

I look at her crazy for a moment and chuckle into my glass of iced tea.

Perfect? I think not. We're both clearly very fucked-up people.

After Susan and Katie leave, both swearing their allegiance to keeping this a secret and with threats from Ginny to hex anyone who tells, the three of us sit on the patio of our flat in lounge chairs. They're sipping on strawberry daiquiris and I'm drinking water…with lemon to spice it up.

It's hot out here tonight. Hot and oddly humid. The air is different, but at least there's a slight breeze out here tonight.

The city is quiet…and so are we.

"I owled Luna today," Ginny breaks the almost perfect silence, "Told her everything that was going on…she thinks you should keep the baby."

I take a few gulps of lemon water, "Do you think I should keep the baby?"

"That's not my decision to make."

"You're right, but can I get your opinion? Yours too, Pans."

Pansy and Ginny exchange looks, it almost looks like they're silently arguing on who gets to speak up.

Finally, Ginny shoots one stern look and Pansy sighs, "Okay, _okay_," she groans and looks at me, "Ginny and I…we think you should keep it. It will be kind of fun having a baby around here and I really like the idea of being Auntie Pansy," she grins at the mere thought for a moment, "and the baby won't be fatherless. I know how you feel about Draco, but he's not deadbeat dad material…but I think you know that already. Once he cools down, you _know_ he's going to be right back here, fighting with you about this baby until he's blue in the face."

I stare up at the sky. She's right.

"I _do_ know that. I've actually been waiting for him to just pop up and scream at me until I decide to keep it. I think the fight he put up to convince me to keep the baby made that very obvious to me. That's not where the problem lies. It lies with _me_," my voice drips with emotions as I admit in quiet tones and tears rolling down my cheeks, "to be honest, I'm completely and utterly terrified of becoming a mother."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling does.

Author's Note: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, both from new reviewers and old reviewers. I'm really excited by all the positive support and the love my story is getting thus far. I don't have too much to say about this chapter, just happy reading!

* * *

_When you go, all I know is_

_You're my favorite mistake_

"_My favorite mistake"—Sheryl Crow_

_(Next week: August 6__th)_

My stepmother loves to clean.

She loves cleaning more than she loves most other things in her life and_ really_ despises clutter and dirt of any kind.

Her and Draco should get along fabulously.

Anne will systematize any and everything. It's obsessive and almost pathological. She organizes clothes in every closet by color and texture, even the coat closet isn't spared from her wrath. Categorizes napkins based on their thickness and color. Arranges movies based on month and year of release. And let's not even start on the furniture…I think I've made my point clear. She's a freak.

During my summers home from Hogwarts, what few weeks I spent here, I remember waking up every morning to find one or two rooms in the house completely different from when I went to bed. Always, I could find Anne sitting on the couch or on the floor of the room she changed, raving about how she loved finding her chi or some other garbage she reads about in self-help and modern home books. She kind of reminds me of Trelawney with the way she carries on.

_Look inside your mind, see with your inner eye_...please.

It never fails, three days later, _always_ three; she'll complain and move it around again.

Still, I like to think of myself as an organized person, kind of like her, but not so extreme. Actually Anne thinks it's because her dedication to perfection and her insatiable need for order has somehow managed to rub off on me, but that's bullshit. Cleaning gives me a sense of accomplishment and pride and organizing is like a puzzle. It's a type of catharsis for me. Nobody can tell me how to clean, not even my dad, who likes to tell me how to do everything else, including how to live my life.

Today, before I leave for the hour-long trip to my parents', I get up at the crack of dawn and clean the entire flat from ceiling to floor, partly by magic and partly by the old-fashion, soap and water way. And when I arrive, on time, Anne greets me with a feather duster in hand, obviously doing the same thing.

"Oh, Hermione, you're just in time. I just finished cleaning and I'm about to serve lunch," she takes a moment to examine my outfit and her smiles shows her approval, "you look wonderful in that dress."

Ann reads too many 18th century romance novels and is obsessed with chivalry and teaching me how proper ladies act, walk, talk, wear…I'm positive that if she had her way and threw a party, the men would be in suits and wigs and the women would be in bodices with long dresses, elegant headdresses, adorning fans in their hands, waving to all the suitors. She wants me to be as mild-mannered and sophisticated as she imagines people were back then, well the people she reads about in novels.

Good luck with that one, these days I'm on this never ending emotional rollercoaster.

When she throws her arms around me, I have to use every ounce of will and strength I possess _not_ to gag and vomit all over her. The perfume she's wearing is absolutely _horrendous_. It smells like someone sprayed a _landfill_ with vanilla air freshener.

She pulls back and smiles, a bit too cheery, "Can you smell my perfume? Wonderful isn't it?"

"_Extremely_." I reply dryly, feeling a bit faint, "Where's dad?"

"In the living room."

"Excuse me," giving her one last smile, I bolt to the living room as fast as my feet can carry me without running away from the offending odor that's making my stomach turn. She hates it when people run in the house.

My dad is exactly where she said. In the living room that looks completely different than it did the last time I was here, sitting in his favorite and sacred faded blue armchair Anne has been trying to get rid of for years. It's old and dusty and even I fail to see the sentimental value, but that's his chair and I don't argue. His eyes are attuned to the television that's showing a special on the history of dentistry, which is currently talking about dentists in the middle ages.

When dad sees me from his peripheral, he hits the televisions' pause button, gets up, and pulls me in for a hug, "Long time, no see, Hermione."

He always says that, but for our health and safety, we try not to see one another but every three months, unless it's an emergency. It's not like we have a bad relationship. It's just not a very good one. Our conversations these days that aren't in letters tend to stay below the fifteen minute mark or else I'm going to get angry.

Fifteen minutes gets us past the bullshit "how are you?" conversation and pushes us into the territory where he tells me what I should do with my life.

"Been a bit busy at work, dad."

"Oh, your new job, I received your letter about it. How is it going?"

Yes, dad and I communicate through letters and telephone. He doesn't do e-mail and I live too far away to just "drop by" so letters and sparse telephone calls work for us. "It's going well."

"So what exactly _is_ a healer?"

"It's the wizarding world's equivalent to a medical doctor," I explain, "I have patients, I deal with emergencies, I heal people with magic, I go on rounds, and I do it all."

His face lights up, "So you're like a doctor?"

I smirk at his excitement, "Yes."

"Wonderful."

My father has always had these big, larger-than-life ambitions for me. I'm sure that if I let him, he'd tell me what my career should be, who my friends should be, what kind of car I should drive, and who I should date. He's always believed I'm special and more than what people think I am so when I received my Hogwarts letter, he's ecstatic that theory of his was proven. He's more than proud when I let it slip that people call me the brightest witch of my day.

When I was younger, if I tried to get the least bit independent, he tried to control me with money. When I come home now, I feel like I'm being suffocated. I don't know how he's going to react to the news of my pregnancy, if I decide to tell him. Anne is a little more predictable than dad is. She'll probably walk out and leave us to talk, argue, or possibly kill each other. She's a pacifist and to be perfectly honest, I don't think I've ever heard her raise her voice. Dad, on the other hand, is an enigma. I never know how he's going to react. I just hope that if I tell him, he'll support whatever decision I make.

But deep down, I know he'll be disappointed with me. It's like he expects me to be perfect and responsible Hermione, he expects me not to make mistakes, and expects me _not_ to do all the stupid things people my age do. But if I never make mistakes, how am I supposed to learn? How am I supposed to live?

He wants to keep me ten years old and naïve forever, but I'm the furthest thing from the image he has of me. I don't think dad really can grasp everything I've been through or the fact that I'm far more mature than most people my age.

He thinks I'm weak, that I'm just this walking brain, and he doesn't believe I can cook my own meals without his help.

Seriously.

Every now and then, Anne sends over a care package of food with a note that says, _"To make sure you're eating right."_

Ginny screamed the first time she opened one of the care packages.

After that, I always trash it before she sees it because she gets these flashbacks and it's really nasty.

You see, Anne is an inventor…that likes to cook.

It's really a bad combination. She likes to throw shit together to see if it works…it usually doesn't.

Anne comes out the kitchen door holding a steaming glass pan with oven gloves. If she had a jumpsuit on, she's look like the men who pick up hazardous wastes from the muggle hospitals. She sits it down in the center of the table with a tiny clink, looks at the food adoringly, and clasps her hands together before removing her gloves, "I hope you all enjoy this. It's soy and tofu lasagna."

Skeptically, I eye it while she scoops some out on a plate for dad.

My stomach turns…and not in a good way.

Of course, she lops a huge amount on my plate. Fuck.

My fork touches the tip of the mushy goo that resembles lasagna and it comforts me a bit to see that this food hasn't melted me or the fork…yet. I stab at it with my fork and look across the table at dad, who is eating it like its actually _good_ or something.

It's now or never, so I scoop up some of it, close my eyes, and slide the fork in my mouth.

At first I test the waters to see if it isn't going to melt my teeth and sear off my tongue, but it's harmless. Except for the taste, that is. My throat struggles to swallow but finally the concoction makes its way down my throat.

I open my eyes to look into my stepmother's hopeful eyes, "Mmm…"

"Do you really like it?"

It takes like cow dung. I take a really long drink of water before picking at the _"lasagna"_with my fork. I don't know if I possess the strength and will to eat more to protect her feelings, "Oh, it's _wonderful_."

"Would you like some salad?"

My belief that no one can possibly mess up a salad comes a bit prematurely, as I find out at the first bite. I don't even want to know what's in my mouth, something crunchy, something slimy, but I chew carefully and swallow the entire mouthful before attempting to smile at Anne, "Tastes good."

"I made the dressing myself," she informs with a smile.

That explains everything.

Every ounce of strength goes into the task of keeping my face straight. What in the bloody hell did she make the dressing out of? Blended road-kill with a sprinkle of _death_ to get that nice tangy taste?

After a few more dangerous bites, I feign fullness and she takes my plate into the kitchen.

"Did you see the living room?" Anne asks me.

I sip on my water; it's probably the best part of the meal, "Yes."

"What did you think about it? It's changed since the last time you've been here."

Quick, make up _something_. I know it's changed, but I don't know how, "It's very," I begin, making motions with my hands, trying to come up with the next word and praying I get it right, "comforting…"

She gins, "That's _exactly_ what I was going for. Feng Shui For The Soul says that the key to an open and comfortable room is a clear pathway. The chi is full then and the mind relaxes."

I have no idea what she's talking about, "That's simply _fascinating_."

"You should try it in your flat."

"Of course, we will." I lie.

Dad excuses himself for about fifteen minutes to go out back, probably to smoke. The funny thing is my dad will tell you that he doesn't smoke, it's not true, but he believes it. He doesn't count those late nights only I know about when he goes through two, maybe three packs while Anne is completely oblivious. He only smokes when he needs to think, or so he claims. He doesn't think it counts.

He smokes, he chain smokes, but let one of those anti-tobacco commercials come on and he'll make a little supportive grunt in his throat like he's considering writing an encouraging letter to the Anti-Tobacco Foundation or whatever the hell you call it.

It's just like him to think he's impervious to mistakes, to think he's fucking flawless.

"So, what's new with you?" Anne asks over dessert I decide to skip. It's some kind of cheesecake that I don't trust. Dad is back, lapping it up like he's never eaten cheesecake in his life…maybe the smoking has weakened his taste buds.

I shrug to cover my tensing shoulders, "Nothing, just tired. I'm on call for 24-hours tomorrow."

"That's a long time," she comments, rising from her chair to go in the kitchen, "Would anyone like wine?"

I've been offered so much wine since I found out that I'm pregnant that my reply is automatic, "No thanks."

Anne looks at me, distraught, "But it's your _favorite_. I bought it for you. I even _chilled_ it the way you liked it."

I try to gloss over this situation smoothly without revealing anything, "I'm so sorry Anne, but I'm not in the mood—"

"For your favorite wine? Come on, just _one_ glass," she tries to tempt me.

Of course, I stick to my original answer, firmly, "No, I don't want it. I'm on call."

"Yeah, _tomorrow_ and it's just one glass, _today_."

My irritation flashes and I speak in harsh tones, "_Look_, Anne, but I don't want a bloody glass of wine."

She looks rather stunned by the tone of my voice. Now, she's close to tears and I feel guilty for lashing out.

Anne whimpers, "Why not?"

Dad actually looks up too, regarding me with a curious look, "_Yeah_, why not?" he pipes in.

My mind starts to panic, but I'm far too irritated to be fearful of revealing this secret, "Because I can't."

Apparently no answer is good enough for them. Dad gives me a funny look, "And_ why_ can't you?"

"Why is it any of your business?" I grumble darkly.

"Because I'm your father…and you are my business. So why can't you drink any wine?"

My frustration peaks. See what I mean when I say he treats me like I'm ten and naïve? I'm _not_ his business; I haven't been his business since I was eighteen. He doesn't care about me, he just cares about perfection. That's why he married Anne. Because she's seemingly perfect.

"I'm waiting on your answer, Hermione Granger."

Blazing mad, I slam my fist on the table, dishes clatter, startling them both, "Okay, you want to know why I can't have any wine," I spit rather caustically, "It's because I'm pregnant…so if you two will do me a favor, get off my fucking back before my already fucked-up hormones make me go postal and I flip the hell out on you both."

Anne's mouth drops.

Uncomfortable with the tense silence that overwhelms the room, she wordlessly scampers to the kitchen to wait out the monsoon that's about to start in this dining room. Dad just shakes his head, disappointed. The look he gives me makes me want to curl up in a ball and die. I'm not used to him looking at me with such regret, like I've made an unforgivable mistake.

I shake my head and bite my lip, hard, but there's no way to stop the tears from falling. Fucking mood swings.

"You're_ what?_" The chill of his words makes a shiver run up and down my spine.

"I'm pregnant…" I repeat shakily, trying to make my voice sound stronger than it actually is, "just over eight weeks…"

"Well," my dad speaks after another moment of silence with a shrug, "you can abort it, right? You're in the right time. Just go in and get rid of the bastard baby, be more careful, and move on with your life."

His words stagger me. To the point where I can only just sit there, shell-shocked and outraged, he actually _said_ that to me…in my face. I can't believe it! He's the first person to say it so callously, so upfront and brash, almost dismissively. Like this baby doesn't matter, like it's some annoyance that's getting in the way of his perfect daughter and the perfect life he wants me to live.

I never thought he'd react like this and I find myself disgusted with him all of a sudden. I'm disgusted this man is my father. I'm disgusted and hurt that my father, the man who gave _me_ life is the _only_ person not excited about this baby, that he isn't excited about being a grandfather.

My rage builds, I can hardly see from the tears glazed over in my eyes, begging to be shed, and I'm trembling. My voice breaks when my next words come from my mouth, "It's not that easy, dad."

Emotionlessly, he sips on his drink, "Of course it is, Hermione. It's a bastard baby. You have a _bastard_ growing inside of you. Nobody wants a bastard out of wedlock."

My blood starts that familiar bubble and I feel my body go rigid, "Well, maybe I do." I stubbornly cross my arms.

Dismissively, he throws his hand up, as if I don't matter anymore, "Go right ahead, have it, you'll be one of those statistical whores that pop out babies and expect someone else to take care of it because they can't get a real job."

I shoot back, "I _have_ a real job, I'm a healer, I have a lot of money saved from my last job, I'm twenty-one, there's no reason why I can't have this baby! I'm an adult, it's my body, and I'll do what—" Freezing, I realize suddenly I've made my decision.

Oh shit. I'm taking the hard way.

Dad glares at me, menacingly before rolling his eyes, "You're dumber than I originally thought if you think you can raise this baby on your own. You know _nothing_ about being a mother."

"First of all, _I_ know more about being a mother than _you_ know about being a father," I shout angrily, "Fathers don't push their daughters away when they need them. Fathers don't put their daughters away, period. They don't compare their daughters to their mothers. They don't do _any_ of the shit you do."

"Her—"

My heart is racing as I continue to rant, "And secondly, I won't be on my own! This baby has a father who wants to be in its life; a father that fought hard _for_ its life! It has me, all of me, one-hundred percent! It has my friends who will love it like it's their own! This baby already has the _world_, dad, and it hasn't even been born!"

"_Please_," he scoffs, "the father will leave you for the next piece of arse he can find and then where will you be? 21, with a baby, and a ton of baggage. No man wants baggage, Hermione."

Shaking with rage and pain, "You don't know that!"

"I expected better from you, Hermione. This is not like you, you're responsible, you're smart—"

Outraged, I emotionally yell, "You think I _wanted_ this to happen? You think I did this on purpose? Do you think this was planned? No. I'm not perfect dad, I can't live up to this perfect image you have of me. Yes, I did something stupid. Yes, this baby was a mistake, but I'm starting to think that it's a good mistake; the best one I've ever made. This baby has made me realize something about you, dad. You're cold, cruel, and I'm _disgusted_ by you."

"And this entire conversation is ridiculous. Quit being stupid and start being reasonable…get rid of it."

Tears spill over my cheeks, "Oh, so now I'm stupid? One act changes everything about me?"

In a matter-of-fact tone, "Yes, it does," he fires another disappointed look, "I don't want you to come back here until you've make the right decision and take care of it. In the end, you'll see that your dad is always right…and maybe when you're mature and married, you can have a_ real_ baby."

The barrier breaks and my shoulders shake with sobs, "This _is_ a real baby!" I scream at him, totally lost in rage, "It's real whether you want to believe it or not! How _dare_ you sit here and treat me like I'm some silly whore. I've _thought_ about giving it up, the decision keeps me up at night and I can't sleep! I've done my research, asked around, talked to a slew of doctors, and done everything…and for you to sit here and say all this to me, threaten to disown me because I'm _pregnant_…if mum were alive—"

Coldly, he sneers, "Well she's not, is she? I've raised you from infancy…you've only got me."

Hot tears cascade down my cheeks as I cry angrily, "You're wrong I don't just have you. I have friends. I have friends who know me better and give more of a damn about me than you do. I have me…and now I have this baby. And, you know what, dad? That's _all_ I need. I don't need you. I've been doing fine all this time and I'll continue to do just fine without you."

My chair is knocked to the floor when I rise sharply, angry as hell, face flushed, pulse racing, head throbbing from his assault on me as a person and his criticism of this baby.

I throw the napkin on the table and storm out the room and eventually the front door without so much as a casual glance back, slamming the door so hard behind me that the hinges break.

* * *

_Driving away from the wreck of the day_

_And the light's always red in the rear view_

_Desperately close to a coffin of hope, _

_I'd cheat destiny just to be near you._

"_Wreck of the day"—Anna Nalick_

_(Fifteen minutes later)_

There is no time to scream, there is no time to run…

…all I can do is brace myself for the impact that I know is coming.

Everything happens so fast.

I just left the disastrous lunch and after speeding off, blind with anger; I regain my composure and slow down, thinking first and foremost about the security of this baby.

Mentally, I made a list of things to do today:

(1) Get the prescription for pre-natal vitamins refilled.

(2) Go to the bookstore to get all the expecting books.

(3) Call an obstetrician.

(4) Go to Pansy's to tell her the good news.

(5) Go home and read all these books.

But it's funny how life has a way to interrupt all your plans.

There is a distinct squeal of tires just beforehand. The passenger side impact, the violent crunch of metal against metal, sends my car into a tailspin. I grip the steering wheel as tight as I can as my car spins and flips all over the road. Tumble forward. My head slams against the deploying airbag, the force of the hit, sends my head smack into the window that shatters almost immediately. Roll back. I think I hear myself scream.

People say the instant between life and death is one that holds the most clarity. I've heard that a lot from Harry who has been much closer to death more than anyone I know, but never really listened. I try not to be the kind that worries over minuscule things or debates the curiosities of the world. If I let myself, I'm sure that I can become that person.

Life, right now, is exactly what it is—living.

I don't take it for granted, no more than anyone else my age, I don't pay enough attention to it, that is.

Not until now.

Spinning and spiraling out of control, my vision is muddled and even though I know the sun is out, I see nothing. All I can do is hold on for dear life. I am not religious, but while I spin, I pray. I pray that this baby will be kept safe. It's all clear to me now. Yes this baby is a mistake, but I think that in my heart, I've always planned to keep it. I think it's my mind that has finally caught up.

And then it's over, and there's nothing but an infinite numbness sweeping over my body. Some part of me screams in pain, but I'm too dizzy to ascertain what exactly.

Groaning, I take a few shaky breaths, willing myself to calm down. Glass is everywhere and I'm covered in shards that shine brilliantly in the sunlight. Damn. It's bright…and I can't help but think it shouldn't be this sunny at a time like right now. It doesn't matter, I'm just happy to be alive. I don't have to glance around to know my car is a mess. That too doesn't matter. Nothing does, except the safety of this baby.

Figures the moment I decide to keep this baby, something like this happens and now I'm stuck at an intersection with tears I can't cry and pieces of glass in my hair.

It takes me everything I have to stay calm. I can't think clearly about anything except this baby. I don't care about me. I just care about this baby…and I realize I'm thinking like a mum. I _feel_ like a mum. I _am_ a mum.

So for the sake of this baby, I will myself to stay calm, sit here, and breathe. In and out.

A redheaded man rushes to my busted window and instantly I wonder if he's related to the Weasleys, "Are you okay?"

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I notice a crowd starting to grow on the sidewalk.

Stay calm, Hermione, _stay calm_, "Yes," I speak slowly, "I think so. My head hurts."

He puts a napkin to my head, it stings a bit and I wince, "You're bleeding. What's your name?"

Numbly, I reply, "Hermione…Hermione Granger."

"Well, I wish we could've met under better conditions, but I'm Ted, I'm a yoga instructor and right now, the best thing you can do is stay_ really_ calm. My wife is calling the accident in."

He _sounds_ like a yoga instructor and I may not know him, I may not ever see him again, but right now, I'm relieved he's here with me. There's something about him that's really comforting and assuring about him, his presence, and his voice. I find myself relaxing in his presence, I close my eyes momentarily, hand on my stomach, "Okay, I am."

Breathe in. Breathe out.

A thin blonde woman runs up to the window next, with a cell phone to her ear, speaking rather frantically, "The operator wants to know if you have any pre-existing conditions, miss—"

"Shelly, honey, her name is Hermione…and we're staying _calm_."

"Yes, _calm_," she takes a deep breath and begins coolly, though her voice trembles, "The ambulance is in route. Hermione, do you have any pre-existing conditions they should know about?"

"I'm eight weeks pregnant."

Shelly audibly gasps.

Ted's reserve breaks for a moment when he mutters, "Holy shit."

Well put, Ted, well put. I'm thinking the same thing.

He finds his tranquility and I thank Merlin for it because if he loses it, I will too, "Okay, we're still going to be calm, okay everyone?"

Yes, I'm going to stay calm. I breathe in and out, shutting my eyes to slow my heart rate. I'm going to stay calm, not freak out. Stay calm. Not freak out. I hear Shelly's heels clink against the pavement as she walks away tell the operator exactly what I told her and I think they are giving her advice. Ted is still holding the napkin to my head firmly.

There is silence. I can't take silence right now. I need someone to talk to me. I need someone to talk to me and keep my mind off this.

"Ted," I speak, my voice trembling, "Can you tell me what happened?"

"We were right behind you. I didn't even see the other car until it ran the light and hit you. I think the other guy is drunk. He's slumped over in his seat right now; I think someone is keeping an eye on him, making sure he doesn't leave."

Shelly quickly returns, "They told me not to move you until they get here. Is there anyone you want me to call?"

"I don't have anyone's number committed to memory," groaning, I reach in my pocket as smooth as I can and extract my phone, "but I have my phone."

With a sigh of relief, I open my phone. Two bars left. Thank Merlin. My fingers shake as I hit the 2 button to speed dial Ginny, but I quickly hit the send button and hold the phone to my ear. My eyes dart around my destroyed car again and I try not to panic. I have to get this call through. I just have to. She's the only one I can call now.

The crowd of onlookers grows. I hear some slurred yelling.

Suddenly, I feel both suffocated and helpless.

Ted mutters, "Calm, stay calm."

And I just nod, though I feel like I'm losing my nerve.

"Maybe I should make the call for you, Hermione," Shelly speaks, "Maybe you've had some head trauma or some internal bleeding or something. Are you sure you're okay?"

Oh, so now Shelly is a doctor?

"I'm fine, okay. I'm staying calm…" I wish Ginny would pick up the bloody phone.

"You're probably in shock."

I_ know_ I'm in shock. I can't feel anything, except this dull throb in my head where Ted is holding the napkin.

"Shell, not right now, okay? We're trying to keep her calm, not rile her up by putting ideas in her head that we can't prove, love."

"You're right."

Finally, I hear Ginny's voice muffle a quick hello.

She's on a date, I know, but I'm instantly relieved to have someone familiar to talk to, "Gin, it's me. I had a—"

Of course, she cuts me off, "Hermione, did you tell your dad—"

"I did. More like yelled it," I shake my head and get to the topic at hand, "But I don't care about that now, seriously, I had a wreck and I'm in my car. I need you to get here really fast because I think I'm running real low on reserve and I'm going to lose my fucking mind."

Ginny starts to panic. I hear it in her voice and in her breathing, "Holy shit! Where are you?"

I open my mouth to answer, but I realize that, with all the commotion and the spinning and the flipping, I have no idea where I am. Stay calm. Just stay calm. Ginny screams, _"Hermione was in an accident!"_ which does little to help keep me calm. Instead, I find myself closing my eyes and speaking slowly, "Stop yelling Gin, I'm going to give the phone to this guy named Ted and he's going to give you directions here, okay?"

"Okay, just, j-just hold on, okay?"

"I'm not dying," are the last words I say to Ginny before I hand the cell phone to Ted. I keep my breathing cool and calm as I listen to him tell the frantic Ginny how to get here.

When he hangs up, he hands me back the cell phone, slightly chuckling, "Your friend is really wound up."

"Yes, she worries about me."

"Obviously…are you alright?"

A bit anxiously, "Yes."

I hear the sirens and my tensing body relaxes a bit.

Before I can say anything, Ted moves and all of a sudden in his place, looking like an angel to me, is a fireman. He immediately drops to his knees, "Are you okay?"

A little frantic, "Yes, I'm okay. My head hurts, but I just _need_ to make sure my baby is okay."

He whistles at someone, "Bring me that stretcher," he looks back at me, "How far along are you?"

"Eight weeks."

"Okay," he carefully puts the neck brace on, unbuckles my safety belt, and slowly, carefully extracts me from the car, and lies me on the stretcher. He begins to strap my legs in to keep me still in the event of serious injury. He checks the car next and then, just like that he's gone.

He's quickly replaced by two paramedics. Fear and panic leap into my chest and I don't think I can breathe anymore. I don't see anyone familiar anymore. Ted and Shelly are gone. From my vantage point, I can see the severity of this crash. My car…my car is completely totaled. There is no passenger's side, not anymore. It's crushed in to the point where it's unrecognizable.

Chaos breaks out.

"I'm going to need you to answer a few questions…"

"Clear away, people. We need to secure the scene…"

"How far along…"

"Your name is…"

"Are you having any sharp abdominal pain?"

My head is pounding not just from the pain, but the steep rise in anxiety. I'm on edge.

This was a really bad accident. They tell me I'm really lucky. A lot of people in these kinds of accidents don't make it out as easily as I did. They were surprised that I didn't break any bones. But what if the baby…

No, I can't let myself think like that, not now, especially when I don't know anything for certain.

I want to scream and curse and tell them to hurry up and take me to the hospital, but somehow, I manage to answer the paramedic's question while the other radios the closest hospital. There are abrasions on my elbows, head, and knees, but they won't know anything until we get the ultrasound done.

I flinch, but remain cool when they apply peroxide and bandages to cuts and scrapes and ice to the cut on my head that's probably going to need stitches. I'm thinking of a more magical remedy…one that doesn't involve stitches.

I close my eyes to ease the headache and soon I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm here," Ginny takes a hold of the ice on my head and I want to burst into tears from the relief I feel, "I'm here, okay? Just let them do their jobs. I called Pansy and she's going to meet us at the hospital, okay?"

I just nod and finally let the tears roll down my cheeks.

* * *

_And if we go down, _

_We go down together_

_Best friends means _

_Well, best friends means._

"_There's No 'I' in Team"—Taking Back Sunday_

_(Late that night)_

"Hey, let's get you inside 'Mione," Pansy keeps her arms wrapped around me firmly while Ginny opens the door to our flat with her wand. Pansy helps me into the threshold of our door, "I'm sure we have a bath with your name all over it."

"You guys don't have to do this. I can—"

Both Ginny and Pansy give me a pointed look, but it's Ginny that speaks, "Hermione, you know just as well as I do that you don't want to be alone right now. Quit being so stubborn and let us help."

"Yeah, 'Mione, we love you," Pansy smiles, "We wouldn't be here if we didn't. Now, let's get you cleaned up. All this glass in your hair is making me nervous. You don't need to get anymore scratched up more than you already are." Pansy lets me go for a second, whips her wand out, and with a quick wave all the glass is gone. "Now that's better."

I follow them to my bathroom, sitting on the toilet while Ginny turns on the tap and Pansy pulls a number of towels from the cabinet. Pansy then grabs my bathrobe from the hook on the door and holds it out to me, I shake my head.

"I don't want to hear it, Hermione. You were hit by a drunk driver, your car is obliterated, and you just spent the afternoon in the hospital. I'm just glad you're fine."

Sniffles, "Yeah, but I hate to be a trouble."

Ginny helps me into the bathrobe, "No, you'd do it for either of us in a heartbeat. We want to help. That's what friends are for."

I smile, "Thanks guys…for everything."

I undress without a word and slip into the bath, sinking into the warm bubbly water that soothes me instantly before speaking timidly, "Guys?"

"Yeah?" they reply instantly.

"Can you both…" I close my eyes and swallow forcefully, "Can you both stay?"

Ginny nods and sits on the floor next to the tub while Pansy sits across from Ginny, "We'll be here."

Pansy looks at me, "You know, it's okay to cry. It _has_ been a long day."

I don't need anymore encouragement.

Not a minute passes before I can't tell the difference between the water on my hands and my tears. I sit there with my head in my wet hands, crying until I can't stand it anymore. Pansy and Ginny sit in silence as I cry, getting everything out, all the fear I felt today, all the worrying, the stress, the pain, everything. And when I wipe my eyes with my hands, I relish in the feeling of being purified. I take a breath and smile at my friends, "I feel a lot better."

Ginny smiles. "That's good."

Pansy gets up, goes to the sink, and looks at herself in the mirror, "Did the doctor say anything about the baby?"

My eyes shift between Ginny and Pansy before my smile brightens a bit, "Perfect and…and, well, I'm keeping it."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling does.

Author's Note: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. I did have two directions I could've taken and as I wrote it, I had every intention of making Hermione lose the baby in the accident, but then I didn't want to write dark and depressed Hermione because there's just no way she would've let Draco in to help her and he's kind of clueless too, not to mention, I wanted it to get a little funnier with Pansy and everyone else, I wanted to introduce Harry and Ron on a slightly lighter note so I changed it, and I'm already creating the baby and what it's going to look like in my head (yes I've figured out the sex so I'm going to keep referring to the baby as "it" so I don't give it away). As always, R&R! Happy reading! Peace.

* * *

_I am finding out that maybe I was wrong_

_That I've fallen down and I can't do this alone_

_Stay with me, this is what I need, please?_

"_My Heart"—Paramore_

_(Two days later: August 8__th)_

"…_let me be clear about something tonight, Granger: you're the only women I've ever wanted. Just you. It's always been you…"_

For years this thing with Draco, it's been this really weird kind of crush…the kind of crush that takes over your entire existence. When you can't think of anything but that person and you don't want to think of anything but that person. All I see is his face; all I hear is his voice. I can still smell the scent of his cologne and I know it's my imagination, but it's still so vivid.

But as I stand here, today, I wonder who he is, _really_.

I've known him forever it seems, but his actions as of late have left me seriously wondering whether I really know him at all.

Who is this man I have the insatiable desire to smother and snog all in the same breath when he puts on that arrogant smirk and when he's being particularly pretentious? Who is this man who drives me utterly insane with his stupid little idiosyncrasies? The man who tugs at this and that; who straightens every bloody thing in sight when things get slightly tense. The funny thing is I find myself missing the very things I thought I detested about him.

Oh, don't get me wrong, it's still annoying as fuck, but I guess it's charming.

Really, I know hardly anything about the man I've been half in love with for two years. The man that is capable of making me cry and smile all at the same time. Who is this man with the easily tested temper? Now that I think about it, watching Draco get pissed off really opens my eyes. Seeing him yell at me makes him almost _human_. Almost. He really does have emotions, he really does have feelings; he's not this emotionless statue.

I used to think he was unable to feel anything and I used to envy him for being able to control his emotions so well.

Now, I don't.

Now, if only I could borrow some of his strength and use it right now, that would be great.

Pansy gives me two thumbs up, "Go on then, we committed a lot of crimes to get you here."

True.

Ginny nods and pats my shoulder for encouragement. "Yeah, we sure as hell did. Go on…courage, mate," she shakes her fist to symbolize courage.

Oh, I'll need all of that, a fist, and some more to get through this. "Thanks guys," I take a deep breath before pushing the door open with shaky hands and stepping into the office. Shit, why is it so damn hot in here? Better yet, why am I so bloody nervous? His office is like a fucking furnace…maybe he needs to counteract the cooling charm he puts on his clothes—

The door clicks shut behind me and a very angry and snooty voice speaks extremely coldly, "I thought I told—"

All I can do to shut him up is say his name, "Draco."

His quill falls from his hand just as his head shoots up, "Hermione?" the way he says my name is soft, it's a bit odd and different. But he snaps out of it quickly and the cool, austere and statuesque Draco Malfoy is back, still in adorn in his perfect black robes, with a vengeance, "What are you doing here, Granger? Better yet, how did you get past both my secretaries? I specifically told them not to let anyone in here. Wait until I get my hands on them, they are—"

I swear he's either yelling or ignoring me.

I'm really going to need him to find a middle-ground or something because this is just plain annoying. I have to cut him off because clearly it's not in his nature to shut up these days, "They didn't just_ let_ me walk in here. Pansy confounded the first to stop her from calling security when Ginny started cursing her out for not letting us in and Ginny stupefied the second because she was angry when she wouldn't let us past. I didn't know you hired new secretaries—"

Draco jumps from his chair and storms towards me like an angry bull, he's about two feet in front of me when he yells in my face, "That has nothing to do with anything! You confounded and stupefied my secretaries, what the bloody hell is _wrong_ with you and your bloody friends?"

For the first time ever, I keep my composure while he's the ranting, barmy idiot. My hands rest on my hips patiently and I find myself almost smirking, "It was their idea, really. I was thinking of a more stealth approach like flooing to your house, but you know how Pansy is more than you know Ginny, but the point is, my two best friends are three things: bold, brazen, and quick to forget the law."

It's only now that he chuckles…yes, he _actually_ chuckles, but he knows I'm right, especially about Pansy, he's been friends with her longer than I have. It was actually through her that we got a bit closer.

It was during the final battle. I ran into Pansy trying to flee the castle through the portrait. I remember she was desperate to get away, screaming she wanted no part in the war…that was until a death eater tried to hit her with a cruciatus curse. I pulled her out the way of the curse; I don't even know why I did it. After that, Pansy was all about fighting on our side, she took out three death eaters by herself while screaming, _"I'm pureblood, you dolts!" _We've been best mates ever since.

We bumped into a wandless Draco who was trying to convince a death eater he was on their side and that he cursed another death eater because he just so _happened_ to step in front of a curse he was aiming at an Order member. Pansy, still on a rage, hexed the death eater and before I could curse him into a new world, she demanded Draco for once to pick a side. He said he picked a side a while back, after the 6th year fiasco and was trying not to get killed…then he found his wand and saved me to prove his point.

The three of us proceeded to work together to fight death eaters and dementors and a few giants until the very end…

"Okay," Draco sneers in a very condescending manner that reminds me of our school days, "so, Granger, what did you want to discuss with me so badly you had your friends hex my secretaries?"

As soon as he asks the question, I get this weird feeling in my stomach and puts my hand to it, and upon realizing it's a hunger pain, I proceed, "I just wanted to apologize for that night. About two weeks ago, after that night, I called to make an appointment at the abort—"

Sternly, he points his finger at me, "Don't finish that sentence."

Rolling my eyes, I try desperately not to notice how close he is to me…or the fact that his cologne is the first that hasn't made me ill, "Malfoy, it's—"

"No," he interrupts with a derisive sneer, "really, do _not_ finish that sentence. I get it. I may not be a muggle-born, but I know what happens when you make that appointment okay."

What the hell? For the love of…"Malfoy, I need to—"

Very uncharacteristically of Draco, he displays his frustration…it's very obvious with his body language and the fact that he's moved away from me and is now straightening parchments on his desk meticulously, "What I don't get is why you're here telling me this when you didn't even want my opinion about anything in the first place. I specifically told you what I wanted and you left—"

"Let's be clear about something Malfoy, _I_ didn't leave."

Rueful chuckle, "Okay, I left…after you accused me of being a common male whore that sleeps around with anything and anyone I can. I left after you insulted me, my pride, my name, and my dignity."

I sigh apologetically, "I know and I'm truly sorry that I passed judgment on you like that."

"Well, apology not accepted," he replies stubbornly, as I knew he would, "You had the right idea, Granger. I can't tell you what you should do; it's your body, after all. I guess it's fitting you and I should finally agree on something after three years of arguing about everything." He starts arranging the items on his desk again.

Exhaling, "Malfoy, I don't agree—"

His voice is cold, his body language showing his obvious annoyance with me, "I really don't need you showing up in here, talking about abortion clinics and whatnot. I'm busy. Get the fuck out."

"No."

"Then I'll have security kick you out."

Waves my arm superficially, "Fine, do whatever you feel necessary, Draco…" I approach him at his desk.

He stops organizing the quills on his desk when I put hand on his shoulder tentatively. He tenses, almost goes as stiff as a board, it's rather like he doesn't want my hands on him.

Ruefully, I shake my head, "Didn't know you were such a pissy little bitch when your ego is bruised."

Offended, "And you're an intolerable—"

I shove him hard in the chest, "Don't let those words come out of your mouth, Malfoy…"

He takes a sharp breath, like he wants to pick up his wand and blast me across the room, but knows it's the wrong thing to do so he doesn't, "Just go away, Granger. I get that you're aborting our baby. I get it. I don't agree, but whatever."

"Malfoy, I'm—"

"It's fine."

I stomp my foot in frustration, I shove him again in frustration and yell, "Can I _please_ get one word in edgewise?"

Dismissively, he waves me off with a casual wave, "I'm over it, Granger, and I'm over you…I don't even know why I cared so much; you're just like everyone else. Selfish and pathetic."

"You play the wounded victim really well, Malfoy, you always have," I roll my eyes sarcastically, annoyed by him at this very moment, "…I'm playing the world's smallest violin over here for you." I hold my forefinger and thumb about an inch apart and use my other thumb and forefinger to reenact the movement of the violin bow.

Angrily, "Quit being condescending."

"I'm not, you're being childish…and insane…and it's impossible to get one word in edgewise with you. It's not one of the best of your qualities, but if we're going to raise this baby together, I'm going to need you to work on that."

His anger dissipates in about a second and his jaw drops, "Could you repeat that for me?"

"You're actually kind of cute when you're dense like this. It's new, different from the stick-in-the-ass Draco Malfoy so I guess I'll let you keep that—"

He's honestly confused, "Let me—what the bloody hell are you ranting about, Granger?"

"I suppose we both have something to work on, mine is my stubbornness…between your stubbornness and mine, our baby won't budge for anything."

"Granger—" I grab his hand to shut him up.

"I think you should strictly call me Hermione and I'll call you Draco, too many surnames, the baby will be confused." He just stammers and I shake my head, "Maybe if you're this inarticulate, we may have to go a different route."

"Are you holding my hand?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You're incredibly dense today, Draco, but its okay with your charm and my brains, I'm sure our baby will be just perfect."

"Okay, you said I'm charming…what the hell is going on? Who are you and what have you done to the Hermione Granger who slapped the shit out of me?"

"I'm right here, in front of you, Draco, telling you that I called the abortion clinic to make an appointment and ended up hanging up before I could finish dialing. And then I told my dad and he flipped and then I got in this wreck and it kind of woke me up—"

He looks kind of concerned, "A wreck? When? Are you—?"

"Two days ago. I'm fine…we're fine," I'm kind of touched that he's alarmed.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Definitely." I smile, "but I guess what I'm trying to tell you in my own special way that involves me ranting, and you staring at me like I'm a bloody idiot…is that I decided to keep this baby after all."

"You are?"

I sigh, "I'm going against everything I know, I'm completely out of my mind and scared to death, I can't keep breakfast down for anything in the world and I _like_ breakfast, I'm estranged from my parents, you and I have _loads_ to work out because we're practically strangers who are having a baby together, but if you're willing to try to work with me through our issues and get to know me so we can be an effective team, I am too."

Calmly, he takes a deep breath, "I—"

"No matter what you decide to do," I cut him off smoothly, "I'm going to be a mother in seven months and my life takes a backseat to the life of my child."

Firmly, he looks at me, "…_our_ child."

I smile, "Yes, _our_ child…does that mean—"

"Yes."

"Great…I'm starving, and I'm dying for some pizza."

* * *

_No filter in my head_

_Oh, what's a boy to do?_

_Guess he better find one soon._

_"My Stupid Mouth"-John Mayer_

_(Later that evening)_

Draco takes the rest of the day off and after stopping by Malfoy manor to change into something more suitable in his opinion (black dress pants and a black shirt), we find ourselves in a pizza parlor in muggle London. As soon as we're seated and our drinks are ordered, we start talking.

For the first time in a long time, we just sit and talk honest to each other.

We talk like we've never been formally introduced until the moment we stepped into the pizza place. We talk like we just happened to go to the same school and know the same people. And it feels good that we're talking like this, it's almost like we're starting over.

We talk for over three hours over a cheese pizza, wings, drinks, and those little cheese sticks things. We talk as hungry customers come in and satisfied customers leave. We talk as busboys change tablecloths and set the silverware on each table. We talk as the employees sit down for lunch themselves. We talk.

He talks as I munch on pizza. I talk as he sips on his drink. He chuckles at my jokes. I smirk when he nervously asks how I'm feeling. I like nervous and concerned Draco, it's completely different from the cold Draco I'm used to…and friendlier too.

I don't recall ever talking to a person this much, much less enjoying it. I definitely don't recall a time when either of us just sat and listened to the other without taking offense, getting furious, and shouting.

We do that a lot…the getting furious and shouting, I mean.

We don't, however, do enough of this…casual conversation and honesty.

Surprisingly, Draco and I talk very little about the baby, only that we agree to keep doing pre-natal care the muggle way to prevent any unnecessary stress on me. Oh, and I have a doctor's appointment next Wednesday and that I want him to be there with me because Ginny has practice and Pansy has to work and I don't want to be alone. It works because, even though we're not going to see the baby, he wants to be there too.

People always say never to judge a book by its cover, now I know why.

When Draco is in an affable environment and he feels comfortable, he begins to relax, just a bit, and he becomes more real. He still messes with the salt and pepper shakers, but I find myself not bothered by it.

We talk politics, literature, philosophy, history, and current events.

I learn more about him with each passing minute and I've come to the realization that Draco is rather interesting and a lot different from what I thought, from what I've come to know.

We chat about his hatred of most music that comes on the wireless, some television, and Chinese food. We talk about my hatred of self-help books, reality television, and overall pop music. We debate about which house had the best Quidditch team, owls or cats as pets, and the significance of lava lamps.

It's so random, I know, but I find myself laughing at both the hilarity of this situation and the ridiculousness…but I guess this is typical Draco and Hermione in action. We dance around the point of everything with precision and dexterity, which is why nothing ever gets resolved with us, but I can safely say that today I'm okay with dancing.

We converse about old memories.

I find out that he didn't have a particularly bad childhood and I tell him about my mum's death and its repercussions on my relationship with my father. I tell him about the fight, how I hadn't made my mind up completely about the baby until he started attacking the idea.

We talk about the things that happened at Hogwarts while we were in school.

He tells me about the day Harry hit him with the patronus charm during the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw Quidditch match and about the night he found out about the dragon. I tell him about the shrieking shack and the night with Snape, Sirius, and Lupin…and I tell him about the time turner.

We talk about all our little mishaps, from the night we all spent detention in the Forbidden Forest to Umbridge.

He actually laughs when I tell him about the night Ron and Harry used the polyjuice potion to turn into Crabbe and Goyle. I smile when he admits that the _"sneak"_ pimples jinx on Marietta's head was probably the most brilliant thing he'd ever seen.

We talk about anything and everything; and we walk out with slightly more of an understanding about each other, even if everything we know is superficial at best.

But as he apparates us back to his car and drives me home, oddly, I feel a bit happy about things right now because the entire time Draco looks at me in this nice way. Like he finds me interesting. Not in the _"she's okay"_kind of way, but in this _"never knew she was so fascinating"_ manner.

It really kind of makes my day.

But who am I kidding? We still don't know enough about each other to really go there. I'm too rational to let myself blindly slip back to whatever we were before, baby or no baby. No real connection has been established and we have a slew of things to discuss, but it's nice. We are just two people who had one good day. Let's hope we have another one. End of story, right?

Standing at the door of my flat facing Draco, who is wearing an undetectable look on his face, I speak for the first time we left for my flat, "I had a good time."

Draco flashes what I detect is a small smirk and mutters half under his breath, "I did too."

"Oh," I remember suddenly, snapping my fingers once before reaching into my pocket and pulling out what I intended to give him in the office earlier, "This is for you…" I hand him the newer 4-D picture, the one I got from the day of the accident.

He takes it slowly and looks at it. I watch as his face begins to glaze over and melt like it did the night I tossed the first picture at him; it's this mix of pleased, happy, and awe. It's fleeting and serious Draco tries to quickly return, but at least I see it, at least I know he at least cares. This time, however, his face doesn't turn all the way back to stone. This time, a glimmer of a smirk appears, "Is this…"

"Two months, perfectly healthy, and not quite an amorphous blob," After a few quiet moments of concentrated staring, he tries to hand it back, but I don't take it, "It's yours, Draco…you keep it."

He stares at it longer and looks up at me, "By chance, did you read the letter I sent?"

Willing myself not to blush, I reply with a meek, "Yes."

Draco clears his throat and momentarily starts picking at the sleeve of his shirt, "Umm…so, what do you think?"

That's a good question. What do I think? Can we really start over after everything that's happened between the two of us?

"Maybe…I don't know, but I guess it's worth a shot, right?"

He nods, "Yes."

I feel suddenly compelled to ask, "Would you like to come in…for some tea?"

If he's surprised by my question, he hides it well, "Okay, but I'll be right back. I have to get my wand from the car."

Nodding, I watch him smoothly walk down the step for a moment, before using my key to turn the lock to my flat…

…and as soon as I step into the living room, immediately, I know, I've walked into a war zone.

Let me just set up this scene I've just walked into because it's nasty.

It's battle of the sexes. Four people, two males, two females…two on each side, and surprisingly no wands are drawn, for now.

On my right is a scarlet-faced, slightly shaking, teary eyed, mad as hell Ginny Weasley. Next to Ginny is an enraged, but momentarily silent Pansy Parkinson, who kind of does look like a pug now…a rabid pug, that is.

On my left, about five feet in front of Ginny is a livid, fist-clenching Harry Potter sporting a nice angry vein on his neck. And rounding out the foursome, standing next to Harry is a pissed off and probably irrational Ron, whose face kind of matches his hair.

This would be a nice night for a reunion, but only it's not…

…and I'm about to get pulled into a fight after such a peaceful afternoon. Sigh.

"What do you expect me to do, Harry?" Ginny asks, rather, screams heatedly, angry tears falling rapidly in succession down her red cheeks, "Sit on my arse and pine after you while you go off and do whatever and _whoever_ you want?"

"No, but I don't want to hear about my girlfriend dating every available bloke in the wizarding world."

Pansy rolls her eyes, "I hardly think four guys classifies as the entire wizarding world—"

"Stay the hell out of this, Pans," Harry warns darkly.

Ignoring his threat with a wave of her hand, "Oh, you're just fucking jealous—"

"Why don't you shut your bloody trap, Pansy," Ron yells.

Ginny closes her eyes, "Enough! Harry, calm your attack dog down," she glares pointedly at her brother.

"Tell_ her_ to stay out of this too." Ron sneers at a glaring Pansy.

A silent exchange occurs between my two best friends and Pansy snorts and folds her arms.

Ron seems to relax too, slightly.

Harry takes a deep breath, "Look, Gin—"

She cuts him off, "Harry, you don't have a right to tell me what I can and can't do. You took a break from me, you wanted to date around, you wanted to make sure what we have is real before you make the decision to settle down. I _never_ questioned it, Harry, _you_ did."

Bitterly, "But they're my friends Ginny…you can't date my friends."

She recoils like he slapped her in the face, "Oh, and Parvati Patil and Hannah Abbot aren't _my_ friends? That's very hypocritical of you to tell me I can't date your friends when all you seem to go after are mine." Ginny sneers. Harry looks speechless, but I don't think Ginny's finished, "And let's not even get started on the fact that you went back to Cho, who is on my _Quidditch team_ for Merlin's sake! How—" she takes a deep breath, "how dare you come in my flat after nearly two months of little communication and start some bullshit with me!"

"It's not bullshit, Ginny…three guys, three guys every month. What the hell is that?" Harry screams at her.

Ginny breaks down and starts to cry, Pansy's getting angrier and angrier by the second, and I decide it's now time to make a grand entrance.

I decide to let the door close audibly.

Every eye is on me now and instantly the mood changes, giving Ginny the perfect break to pull herself together.

"_Hermione!_" Harry and Ron exclaim right before they barrel me with hugs.

I smile and hug them both, Harry first, then Ron, but I'm looking over them at my red-headed best friend, who gives me a thankful smile. I haven't seen either of them in almost three months. Ron's been training for Quidditch and spent the last few weeks in Romania visiting Charlie. Harry has been busy with his job as an auror in the ministry…and dating around, I suppose…hmm...

And here come the questions:

Harry: "What have you been up to?"

Ron: "I heard you quit working for Malfoy…how's your new job?

Harry again: "What made you decide to quit?"

Ron, of course: "Where's Crookshanks?"

They're bombarding me with questions and I have to stop them before they can ask anything else.

Smirking, "Wait…wait…one at a time. It's great to see you both too. I did quit my job, but I love my new job, and I've been," I think for a moment exactly how I'm going to put this, "I've been up to a lot of things these days, I keep myself completely swamped, you know that…and as for Crookshanks, I gave him to my little cousin Olivia, we can't have pets here and she wanted a cat really bad and Crookshanks seems to like her, so I let her have him."

I expect this little bullshit conversation to continue a bit longer to give Ginny more time to pull herself together.

"Oh, and one other question," Harry begins, "Was it _your_ idea to let Ginny do this dating three men a month shit?"

As calmly as I can, "Ginny is a grown woman, she can do whatever the hell she wants and I don't have a say in anything. It doesn't matter if I did or didn't. I'm not her mother, I've got too much shit going on to try and become hers."

"Her—" Ron starts lowly.

"No," I cut him off savagely, feeling my temper turn for the worst, "the both of you have some nerve showing up here, ganging up on Ginny like this. Harry, you're taking a break from her, technically, you both are single—"

"But—" Harry begins.

"But_ what?_ I'd really like to hear this, Harry." Ginny pipes in as she wipes the tears from her eyes with one hand while the other rests on her hip.

"What you don't—" Harry's words die on his lips when the door opens and in walks Draco, "What the hell?" he turns to Ginny, green eyes blazing with fury, "Are you dating _him_ too?"

"Oh, that's it! I've had it with you and your bullshit Harry fucking Potter!" Ginny screams, enraged. Pansy's mouth falls and just before our eyes, Ginny, who looks kind of possessed at the moment, comes barreling across the room towards Harry.

He's about to say something to her when she reaches back and slaps him as hard as she can muster…

…the force of her slap is so strong his glasses fly off and lands at Draco's feet.

Draco looks down, then back up at Harry who has a visible handprint on his face, and smirks, "At least I'm not the _only_ one around here getting slapped."

Pansy snickers.

I guess that snaps Harry out of his trance and he screams at Ginny, "What the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

"_You!_" Ginny points at him, looking like she's having a fit, "I love you, Harry, but I'm through fighting with you!"

"Gin—"

"Fuck you!" Ron, Pansy, Draco, and I just stand there in a stunned silence when Ginny walks up to Draco, pauses, and proceeds to stomp on Harry's glasses, making sure to dig her shoe in good so the lenses are crushed beyond repair. Draco takes a step back away from the crazy Ginny and over towards me.

She gives them one last stomp for good measure, smiles like she's accomplished the biggest task of her life, "Owl me when you fucking decide to grow up," and she storms off, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

Harry starts to go after her, but Ron stops him…

…smart move.

Draco's eyebrow rises at the spectacle and his eyes find mine, I clear my throat, "What kind of tea do you want?"

"I'll take a rain check on the tea, Hermione. Clearly we just walked into some little lover's quarrel and I've had enough of that shit for one day. Owl me if you want me to pick you up or meet you at the…" he trails off suddenly.

I don't even realize what he talking about until I see Ron and Harry's eyes focus on me in confusion…and I see Pansy standing behind them, wildly waving her hands to tell him to shut the hell up. Apparently he got her message. Wish he would've seen it a lot earlier, like before the last sentence.

"I thought you quit working for him." Ron says.

"I did…but we have other business to tend to."

Ron looks at me crazy.

Draco looks at me like I'm stupid.

Harry looks at me pointedly before speaking, "Since when do you have business with Malfoy?"

I look at Draco, who clearly is leaving this to me. I glare at him briefly before opening my mouth to answer, only to be quickly cut off by Draco's cold, "Not that it's any of your business, _Potter_, but our business began just over two months ago when she got pregnant with my child."

* * *

_I'm willing to break myself to shake this hell from everything I touch_

_I'm willing to bleed for days, the reds and grays, so you don't hurt so much..._

_"Break Myself"--Something Corporate_

_(An hour later)_

"He's a bastard, Hermione."

Glancing over at Pansy and Draco who are talking in front of the fireplace, I find myself chuckling when she swats him in the shoulder and he stands there, rolling his eyes. I think he only stayed to see to it that Harry and Ron don't jump all over me and I don't think he's leaving until they're gone.

A bit protective, I think, but I think that's part of his softer side I'm not familiar with.

However, there is no threat. Ron is raiding the fridge and Harry is calm.

I smirk to myself when Draco's eyes travel around the room, boredom apparent in his gaze, "I think I know that more than anyone, but we're trying to muddle through this mess together, okay." Draco and I lock eyes for a moment and I offer a tiny smile, one that he returns as best as he can while looking serious, "He's not that bad actually, I just don't think we know him that well…me included…me especially."

Takes a bite of his cookie and looks at me, "I wish I would've found out earlier, from you."

My eyes wander to the green ones sitting across the table from me, "And I apologize for that, Harry, you're my best friend, okay…and I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this, I think we both are, but I need your support…yours and Ron's."

Ron pipes up after hearing his name. Surprisingly, he's taken this a lot better than Harry. All he did was shrug, congratulate us, claim that he always knew something was going on between us, and walk off to raid the fridge. Okay, that's the second person who's said that. Apparently there was something I was missing before.

Reluctantly, Harry sighs and rests his hand on mine, "You know you have it."

Thankful, "Good, I don't think I can do this without two of my best friends there," I smile and pat his head, "Besides, you have a more complex situation to deal with."

Harry offers a confused look, "And what is that?"

"Exactly how you're going to get Ginny to stop hating you before you propose."

Smirks, "Yeah, about that…got any ideas?"

"Yeah, don't be a prick to the woman you love. I understand this whole break thing was your idea so you two can make sure you're right for one another…and I understand that after one date with Hannah, Parvarti, and Cho you realized that Ginny was the one for you…and I get that you kept up this charade for two months to make sure you get everything in order before you propose—"

"How in the hell did you figure that out?"

"Female instinct…_and_ you told Cho that this date was all a mistake and you love Ginny. Cho told Katie one day after practice. Katie told Susan a few minutes later. Susan slipped up and told Parvarti a few days later when they ran into each other in Hogsmeade. Parvarti told Padma almost instantly after. Padma told Daphne at work. Daphne told Pansy during their shopping trip when she slapped that guy. And Pansy told me soon after—"

"After all these years, the Hogwarts biggest gossipers are still at it." Harry shakes his head.

I chuckle, "Of course, but that's not the point…the point is you were just asking for her to kick your arse tonight."

Harry runs his hands over his head, kind of distressed, "I only came here to rile her up a bit. She sent me an owl yesterday, wondering when we could get together and talk about us…and I haven't gotten the ring yet. I had to stall her."

Chuckling, "Congrats, you obviously succeeded."

Thoughtfully, he scratches his chin, "I _may_ have taken it a bit far with the Malfoy dating thing—"

"A bit far? What?" I snort, "Harry, even _I_ thought I was going to strangle you when you said that."

"Yeah, but you're Hermione Granger. You've slapped me and Ron quite a few times in the last three years…and let's not even get started on Malfoy."

I smile and shrug innocently.

Harry just shakes his head, "…I just didn't think Ginny had it in her to slap me _and_ do a Riverdance on my glasses."

I bite into a cookie, "Think of what she could've done if she had a wand."


	7. Author's Note

Well hi, this isn't a chapter update, but I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm changing the title of the story. It's taken a totally different direction than planned, so yeah, the new title is Ordinary People. As soon as I finish writing chapter 8 and start 9 (I'm almost finished), I'll post chapter 7, probably no later than Monday. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend and thanks for reading my story!

Inadaze22.


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling owns everything.

Author's Note: Well, finally chapter 8 is done. I'm really excited because it was especially difficult to write and still needs some editing. But now I can post 7. I'm six pages into chapter 9 and everything is going well. I'm excited about where this story is going. Thank you all for reviewing and reading, it's really exciting that you all enjoy reading my story. I'm glad you all like the new title. As always, have a happy reading! Read and review. Peace!

* * *

_And I'd give up forever to touch you,_

'_Cause I know that you'll feel me somehow_

_You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be_

_And I don't want to go home right now._

"_Iris"—Goo Goo Dolls_

_(Six week later: September 24__th)_

I'm a creature of routine.

Really, I am.

Any other way of living makes things difficult…and difficult is one of the many things I can't stand these days.

I've always wondered why Ron and Harry constantly feel the need to live their lives spontaneously and always show up to everything tardy when having a schedule is much more stable and reliable. Of course, like with everything, I try not to go overboard with my routine. They always say too much of any good thing is always bad.

No, my schedule is loose.

But when my new obstetrician is an _hour_ late, I find myself tapping my foot and glancing at my wristwatch religiously, highly agitated and hungry. What do you expect? I'm three and a half months pregnant, moody, and ready to get on with my day.

We've met four doctors so far and none of them have been up to par in our opinion.

Judging from this waiting room and the fact that he's late, this one might not make it either.

The room is a fucking madhouse and it smells oddly like baby formula and air freshener, not exactly the _best_ smell.

I hear screaming babies, I mean they are screaming like they're being tortured or something. There are toddlers having tantrums all over the place about not wanting to sit down, shut up, and watch Barney on television. And let's not forget the kids that are running around like little maniacs, getting into every single thing they can and playing with toys provided by the office. Some kids are hitting each others with the toys and their piercing cries make me cringe. I feel kind of bad for the fish in the tanks that the kids are probably scaring to death by banging toys and their fists on their tanks…

…and where are their parents?

They're chatting politely with each other and on their cell phones, like nothing is going on.

"Where the bloody hell is this damn doctor?" I mutter under my breath, aggravated, looking over at Draco.

He's patiently reading one of the many baby books I purchased for the both of us to read, licking his finger just before turning the page, "And you claim to be the patient one…_hmm_," is his even and slightly humored reply.

"Shut up, Draco," I frown, putting my hand to my ever so slightly protruding stomach, "I'm kind of hungry."

"You were eating when I picked you up this morning."

I roll my eyes, "That was three hours ago. I only ate enough to sustain me until the appointment was over and then I was going to treat us to lunch before I ask you to brave the aisles of the grocery store with me…but this git is late."

Draco wordless reaches in the jacket of his black suit and pulls out a bag of skittles.

He hands it to me without so much as a glance in my direction, "Bought them while you were in the loo."

"Bless you," I tear open the bag and eat a few, sighing happily. It really _does_ taste like a rainbow.

Ten minutes later and I'm back to strumming my fingers on the arm of the chair and checking my watch…

…but then the fucking world stops.

I glance downward when Draco's pale hand rests ever so gently and casually on my knee.

And I wonder when things progressed to _this_ level.

We aren't exactly dating, more like friends, or wait, more like two people who enjoy spending time together.

Don't get me wrong, I'd love if we were more, but we're not. We've shared a slew of pleasant meals. He sent me, Pansy, and Ginny to the spa last week on his dime. He's taken me to the movies a couple of times and to see the symphony. We've gone to mold pottery and make candles together simply because it's something I've always wanted to do. We went to a ministry party together and he even went with me to buy a new car.

For my birthday, he took me out to dinner, gave me flowers, and bought me a book I always wanted. Exactly how he knew I wanted it will always be a mystery to me. Ginny didn't even know. Draco and I have spent a couple of Saturdays looking in stores for baby necessities, making lists of what we're going to before when the baby arrives…but we've agreed not to buy anything until we find out the sex.

That hasn't stopped our friends, of course.

Pansy bought this gorgeous white hand-woven bassinet for the living room. Ginny bought an assortment of temperature-controlled blankets and bottles that magically heat the contents. Ron bought a slew of toys, even though I told him the baby won't be able to play with them for a while after it's born, he didn't care, said something about getting a head start. Draco rolled his eyes. Katie bought me a cradle. Susan bought a slew of classical music to put on my mp3 player and jumbo headphones so I can play the music for the baby throughout the pregnancy and even after birth because apparently classical music makes babies smarter. Harry bought me possibly the most comfortable pair of slippers ever because the lady at the baby store said I would need them. Merlin was she ever right. Blaise bought me a new charmed pillow that changes the degree of fluffiness based on what I want.

…and none of those gifts count toward baby shower gifts either.

But I'm going to be honest; it's not all just fun and games.

Draco and I fight, _a lot_.

We've had such intense fights that my friends have had to break us up on more than a few occasions. I've been banished from rooms, he's been kicked out of our flat, and sometimes we've both been kicked out…until we can get it together, according to Ginny. It's been so bad that on one particular occasion Draco and I went three days without speaking to one another before he showed up at the hospital, pulled me in the break room, and fought me tooth and nail until we worked it out.

Engrossed in his book, Draco barely blinks like the words are going to fly by if he wastes a nanosecond blinking.

I'd still be anxiously waiting for the doctor had his hand not settled on my knee so casually…had this little amount of affection not about given me a heart attack.

So, here I sit.

Quietly staring at his hand, wondering if he wants—

"Hermione Granger…the doctor will see you."

And just like that, his hand is gone and my heart begins to beat normally. It's a good thing too because I'm liable to drive myself crazy with one unspoken gesture, like always.

Draco snaps his book close as I rise to my feet, smoothing down my jeans. After I weigh in, he waits outside the room while I undress and put on the mental patient sheet in this uncommonly bright and chilly room with the painted smiling baby faces border on pristine white walls.

Creepy.

And as I lay here on this table, I think…and we all know thinking isn't always the best thing for me.

Maybe he's just trying to do the manly thing. He wants to put his hand on my knee to give me a sense of security. Because he's here for me and he wants me to know that…but my mind won't stop reeling over the simple action or the fact that I'd begun to feel those familiar goosebumps start to form.

Draco Malfoy has an affect on my body and heart, one that I understand and acknowledge.

I'd be a liar and an idiot if I didn't.

I've tried for months to get over him, I've tried to convince myself that I just want to be friends with him, but the more I get to really know Draco Malfoy, the more he opens up to me. The more he opens up, the more he says all these subtle things to let me know that he does actually care about me. The more he says all those subtle and touching things, the more I realize I can't really even think about letting him go.

To be honest, I've never felt this way about anyone before, no one has even cracked the surface in comparison to how deeply I feel for him, and I highly doubt I'll feel this way about anyone else ever again…and while that used to scare the shit out of me, now it makes me feel alive…because there is a possibility that I'm not alone in my feelings.

Now, there is hope.

With a quiet knock, Draco sticks his head in, but doesn't look at me, "Are you decent?"

"You've seen me naked before, plenty of times…it doesn't matter, but I am decent."

Shaking his head like I'm being ridiculous, he ignores me and steps in, closing the door behind him with a small click. He takes the one seat next to the table I'm relaxing back on, book firmly in his grasp.

He looks around the room, noting in a very flat and critical voice, "There are baby heads painted on the wall."

Offhanded, "I know."

"It's kind of creepy."

"I know that too."

Draco opens his mouth to speak but the doctor walks in smiling brightly. He's a middle-aged blonde man with good hair that kind of reminds me of Lockhart, which is never really a good sign.

"Miss. Granger, how are you, I'm Dr. Stewart. I hear that Dr. Rattan recommended you to me…is this the father?"

"Yes, he did and yes, _he_ is the father," I look over at the serious-looking Draco.

The radiologist comes in, introduces himself, and busies himself with getting the gel and preparing the machine for the ultrasound.

He gives Draco one dismissive look I don't like and it makes him tense, "Well," he claps his hands and looks at me and only me, "how are you feeling?" I already know this will be the last time we see Dr. Stewart. The sound of Draco popping his knuckles lets me know that too.

"Pretty well," I watch the radiologist while speaking to the doctor, "No more morning sickness."

"That's great. So, why are you in today?"

Draco speaks up in a cool voice, "Because we need a sonogram to verify the due date."

The doctor doesn't acknowledge his answer.

I do. Since when does he know the terminology? Apparently he's been reading more than I thought.

I wince when that damn gel gets spread across my stomach, but the annoyance doesn't last long because as soon as I hear the sound of the heartbeat, I'm in a trance and staring. I feel Draco's hand rest on mine. I look over at him, stunned, only to find his grey eyes transfixed on the screen. Smiling to myself, I turn my head back to look at our growing baby on the monitor.

He his hands don't move from mine after the sonogram concludes and they don't move after the doctor leaves to look at the sonogram to determine the baby's due date. After a few minutes of complete silence, my hand suddenly feels cold and I look down to notice his hand is gone and he's back to reading the book. I glance over in Draco's direction, settling my eyes carefully on him as his hand comes to rest on the bed, inches away from mine.

"Are you alright?" I ask him, surprising myself with just how soft my voice is.

Wordlessly, Draco nods.

There's only one thing I can think of to do at this moment. I subtly wipe the palms of my hand on the sheet to rid them of any sweat that has formed on them, and without further ado, I gently rest my hand on his, watching his even expression as it slightly alters to a look that could be…disbelief, but I'll never know, it lasts about a moment. Draco, as always, remains cool and rigid, reading his book without so much as a glance in my direction…but then something happens…

…he slowly flips his hand so we're palm to palm and laces our fingers together.

So now I'm sitting here, heart racing as my entire thought processes cease to function altogether…which is something that always happens when he touches me.

Draco closes his book the moment the doctor walks back in.

"Well, the baby looks healthy and developing nicely, Hermione. In maybe a month, you'll be able to tell the sex of the child. You're about 14 weeks along from the looks of it…I'd say around your due date is around March 8th."

March 8th.

The day everything really changes.

I take a deep breath. Wow. Draco's thumb lightly grazes over mine and my eyes lock with his. And for a moment there, nothing else seems to exist except me and him and the realization that on March 8th, we're going to be parents.

"…and according to your charts you're gaining weight like you should—"

"Don't remind me." I grumble.

A flicker of a smirk flashes across Draco's face.

Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Stewart and a nurse fully check me out and leave me with a few bits of advice and answer a few of my questions while Draco remains silent, watching and listening. For our enjoyment, we get to listen to the baby's heartbeat through the stethoscope and I watch his face glaze over in amazement, smirking to myself.

When they're gone, Draco gets up to grab my clothes and I get down off the table, walking over to him. As I dress in my t-shirt and pants, he keeps his back turned and I keep my eyes on him.

Draco turns around when I tell him to, and my eyes catch the mirror he's standing in front of. He moves and I find myself staring at myself in the mirror, just like I've done every morning since I noticed the baby bump last week after a shower. I really wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't been turned to the side. Nevertheless, I ran into Ginny's room and showed her too and at lunch, I showed Pansy, who commented, _"Holy crap, there's a person inside you."_

No shit, Sherlock.

Smiling at the memory, my hands rest on my stomach that's just starting to show slightly through my clothes, I turn to the side and I'm instantly mesmerized by the sight.

March 8th.

It seems like forever away, but its really only five and a half months down the road. Five and a half months and I'm someone's mum.

Wow. There's so much to do, so much to plan, so much to learn, so much to think about.

It's all overwhelming…and exciting…and terrifying, all at the same time.

The almost inaudible sound of Draco picking at the cufflinks of his suit breaks the silence in the room, "Can I?" he asks in a quiet, almost nervous voice. His book resides on the bed and he's standing behind me, so close I can feel the heat of his body on my back. So close that once again my heart begins to race out of control. He makes my knees weak and my hands clam up.

"What?" I wonder in a voice that is just as soft, just as nervous, and even as confused as his.

My eyes watch him carefully through the mirror.

"Can I touch?"

I don't know why, but tears fill my eyes when his question fills my ears.

Maybe it's the intensity of the moment we're having that I didn't even realize we were even having until just now.

Maybe it's the realization that we are on board with this together and he cares about this baby as much as I do.

And maybe it's because we're going to be parents in five and a half months.

Nevermind the reason, I turn around, slowly lifting my shirt over my stomach, "Go ahead."

Slow, slow, slow, his touch is tentative and warm, caressing and affectionate. Soft touches that make my breathing catch faintly and my insides turn to paste. I don't know what moves me more, the feel of his slightly trembling hands on me or knowing he's touching our baby, inadvertently.

Our eyes meet and for the first time, his eyes momentarily show exactly what he's feeling.

This swelling of my heart, this excitement and fear and confusion and awe…I'm not alone in these feelings.

"Draco," I speak emotionally, tears sliding down my cheeks as I rest my hand on his, "I, um, I want to—"

"Hey, why are you crying?" Another flicker of concern flashes across his face.

"I'm just emotional, that's all," I wipe my eyes, "I'm really happy I decided to keep this baby and I'm really happy that you're taking an active part in all of this."

Using his thumb to catch a falling tear, he slowly pulls down my shirt, "Thanks for letting me…are you ready?"

Nodding and wiping the last of my tears away, Draco instantly takes my hand in his, like it's natural to hold my hand like this. As we make our way out the building, hands still linked, I literally feel the heat radiating off them and I find myself smiling at the slight development of…things.

Together, we walk to the car in a content silence.

It's actually not until we're about to pull out the parking spot that he speaks in a slightly rigid voice, "Please tell me we're never seeing that obstetrician again."

My snicker is the nail in the coffin for the contented silence, "We're_ never_ seeing that obstetrician again."

"Good…he's a git and he's lucky I didn't curse him."

"True, I probably would've fought you for the right to hex him. Let's not even talk about the fact that he smells like cottage cheese. No doctor of mine will be touching me while he smells like cottage cheese."

The corners of Draco's lips turn slightly upward, "The hunt continues."

* * *

_So lay down, the threat is real_

_When his sight goes red again_

_Seeing red again, seeing red again_

"_The Red"—Chevelle_

_(Four hours later)_

After an uneventful lunch, I find myself standing in the cereal aisle, pondering over raisin bran, what I _should_ eat, or fruit loops, what I _want_ to eat.

Draco, highly peeved with my shopping habits, has taken the list and the little basket and left to get the rest of the items so we won't be here all day, grumbling about why I decide to live like a common muggle.

My hand is moments from my heart's desire when I feel someone standing next to me.

Thinking it's Draco and knowing he's going to say something about my cereal choice, I start to make my argument, "I know, I know I should get the healthier cereal, but come—" my words die on my lips when I turn my head and see that it's _not_ Draco standing next to me, but in fact, a very out-of-place Theodore Nott.

Surprised, my voice stammers quite a bit, "W-w-what are you doing here, Nott?"

"Hello to you too, Hermione Granger," is his stiff reply.

Standing to my full height, which leaves him still towering over me, I rest my hand absently on my stomach and the other on my hip.

I_ really_ hate the way he says my entire name like that, it's almost a sneer, like I'm not good enough for him to just call me Hermione, like he's trying to formal and disconnected. It's not in my head either, I've run into him so many times in the last month I often wonder if he's got a trace on me because no matter how random, he seems to end up at the same places as me.

"I didn't mean it like that," I make an attempt to apologize, "I just thought you were someone else."

"Perhaps, Ginny or Pansy or Luna?" he supplies with a casual wave of his hand.

"Not exactly…I just didn't expect you."

To be honest, I've given him a chance, _honest_, I have, I've sat with him a few times in the twenty minutes it takes for Pansy to show up for tea.

He talks about his childhood, his estrangement from his father and his father's family, as well as the short-lived reconciliation right before watching his father receive the dementor's kiss. He talks about life in America, life with muggles, life with his mother, his job, his overall life, everything.

He talks and I just sit there and listen while my mind wanders to more important things like my grocery list, what I'm going to have for dinner, and why I have this insatiable craving for peanut butter…

"You never did answer my question."

Clueless, he folds his arms across his chest, "And that was?"

"What are you doing here in a muggle market?" I ask in a low voice to make sure no one overhears us.

"Exploring…you?"

"Shopping," picks up the box of fruit loops for effect.

He looks around me briefly, "You don't have a basket."

With an attitude, "Do I need one?"

Nott looks at me closely, "Are you always this defensive?"

Truthfully, I reply, "Only when I feel threatened."

"My intention is not to threaten you."

"Well, Nott, what is your intention?" I question in an irritated manner, "Because, to be frank, I don't know what your intentions are."

"Dinner," he says firmly, "just dinner…a date…you and me."

My mouth drops in shock and I blink a few times before trying to speak up—but before any of that happens, Draco turns down our aisle, carrying the little basket in one hand and wearing a look of unadulterated aggravation that develops into a look of utter confusion as he approaches us.

Let me just comment that seeing a stern Draco Malfoy carrying a little green basket like a regular muggle is probably one of the oddest sights I've ever seen. Odd and extremely hilarious.

Still, I've never, ever been more excited to see him in my life.

As soon as Nott realizes he doesn't have my attention any longer, his head whips in Draco's direction.

I can almost _feel_ the tension sharply escalate when Nott's eyes rest on Draco.

Evidently, these two are not close. Draco's cold greeting tells me this much, "Nott."

Matching his coldness, Nott replies, "Malfoy."

"What are you doing here?"

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing."

Grey eyes fall on me, "I'm with Hermione…and if you'll excuse us, I have a meeting in 45 minutes and we need to be going."

He's lying through his fucking teeth, which is something I find absolutely hilarious…well I would if the tension weren't choking me. Flashing a pseudo smile, I pat Nott on the shoulder while looking at Draco, "Oh, that's right, I'm sorry, I forgot," eyes turn to Nott, "I'll see you later." I take Draco's extended hand and let him lead the way to the register.

Silence fall between us.

We're silent while we stand in line. I look at magazines while he remains stoic. We remain quiet while the girl scans the items. I keep my eyes on the price and he keeps his hands in his pockets. Silence ensues when he takes the three bags from me and I follow him to the car. I watch while Draco puts the bags in his trunk.

We're silent halfway back to my flat, that is, until Draco looks over at me, "What did Nott want from you?"

"He was asking me out on a date."

Draco's shoulders tense, but he says nothing more.

* * *

_Here is the church and here is the steeple _

_We sure are cute for two ugly people_

_I don't see what anyone can see_

_In anyone else, but you…_

"_Anyone Else But You"—The Moldy Peaches_

_(Three days later: September 27__th)_

"I love ice-cream." Luna sing-songs in her dreamy voice, dipping her spoon into the chocolate portion of the Neapolitan.

"It's the best food in the world." Ginny supplies.

Four gallons of various Blue Bell favors and a romantic comedy later, we're sitting in the living room of our flat, pigging out, just the four of us. Quipped with spoons and oven mitts to shield our hands from the chill of the ice-cream cartons, we all just chill out on our floor and catch up on everything we've managed to miss.

It's the first Friday the four of us have spent together since Luna's been back from Sweden and it feels good.

"Truer words have never been spoken." Pansy puts a spoonful in her mouth and groans.

Ginny looks in my carton, astonished, "Hermione, you're already finished? That was a whole _gallon_."

Blushing, "What can I say? I'm had a craving…and I can do that because I'm pregnant." I steal a spoonful from her carton and stick the spoon in my mouth before she can protest. Pansy and Luna cackle.

"Speaking of the baby, have you spoken to Draco at all?" Luna asks serenely.

"No," I reply sullenly, "but I don't want to talk about that tonight. I don't know what's up with him."

Pansy sits up, "I think I should warn you, 'Mione, that Draco has no clue how to control his emotions."

Rueful, "I gathered that."

"I don't think so. You see, Draco doesn't know how to be in a relationship, he doesn't know how to convey his thoughts and feelings, he hasn't learned…and he hasn't had the best teachers. I mean, have you met Astoria Greengrass? I'm sure that if Draco told her to hop on one leg and bark like a dog, she'd do it without even questioning it."

Laughing, "You _can't_ be serious."

"Oh, but I am. _Girls_ think he's perfect and can't do no wrong, _women_ know otherwise…and Draco's never been with a woman, much less someone who will call him out on his shit. If you and Draco are serious about starting over, you should know that this is a learning process for him, all of it. I hope you are patient with him, he's a bit clueless when it comes to the process of relationships, but he's a fast learner."

I just sit there and stare at Pansy. Who knew she was so insightful?

"Now," she presses on in light tones, "I think is the perfect time for the game."

We love to play the "If" game when it's really late and we're feeling especially silly…so yes, Pansy is right, now is the perfect time.

The game always start out calm and simple with questions like, _"If you could only keep your legs or your arms, which would it be?" _or something like, _"If you could be Minister of magic for one day, what would you do?"_ and it always gets weird with questions like, _"If you could have one night with a wizard of your choice, but you had to make out with a Hogwarts professor, would you?"_

Yes, when the four of us are together we're pretty juvenile and crazy, oh, and we seem to relapse to the mental age of 13.

"Ginny, you go first."

She smiles, "We'll start this off innocent, Hermione, if you had to lose one of your senses, which would you lose?"

I think for a minute. Sight, touch, taste, smell, or hearing. "I'm thinking I could ditch smell. Everything still smells funny as hell…Luna, if you could be a book, what section of the library would they place you in?"

Luna eats a bit more of her ice-cream and dreamily answers, "Non-fiction…Pansy, if you had your choice, besides Slytherin, what house would you rather the hat sort you into?"

"Don't tell anyone I ever said this because if you do I'd deny it, I'd be a Gryffindor…you all got away with so much shit."

Ginny and I bust out laughing. She's right.

"Anyways, Ginny, to kick it up a notch, if you could choose, which would you sleep with, Theodore Nott or Neville Longbottom?"

"Hands down, Neville. Nott is creepy…I think we can all safely agree to that."

Everyone, even Luna, nods on that. My nod is a little more fervent after that day in the market.

"Anyways, Hermione…forget I'm Ginny…if you had your choice, Harry or Ron?"

"Harry, I already had Ron and clearly I—"

I'm cut off by Draco Malfoy emerging from the fireplace, in all black, pale and severe as ever.

Astonished and a bit unhinged by his sudden presence, I spring to my feet, knocking the empty carton of ice-cream off my lap and onto the floor. Ginny stands up with me, Pansy looks confused, and Luna stares at the scene unfolding before her eyes very distantly. Draco's eyes scan the room swiftly, taking in the muted television, the cartons of ice-cream, and all four of us in pajamas before his eyes rest on me.

My hands are on my hips and I'm shifting my weight from foot to foot, not smiling, not at all.

I haven't spoken to him since he dropped me off three days ago…and it's not because I didn't try, he didn't write back to not one of my owls. He blocked off his floo, told his secretaries to tell me he's out of the office, and abruptly cancelled our scheduled dinner yesterday.

Needless to say, I'm not very pleased to see Draco Malfoy.

Impatiently and very tersely, I snap, "Its late…you could've, I don't know, _owled me back_, Draco, if you wanted to talk."

He, naturally, straightens the pictures on the fireplace, making sure they are perfectly aligned diagonally of one another. I feel my temperature rise as I watch him, quietly contemplating whether I want to strangle him with my bare hands or find my wand and leaving him dangling in front of the fireplace until I get tired of seeing him every morning.

Ginny grabs Luna and Pansy by the hands and leads them out the room, but I see an extendable ear lying on the ground.

Eavesdroppers.

After another moment of silence, Draco finally speaks up, "You _can't_ go out with him."

I'm sure my head jerks back like I'm having whiplash. What the bloody hell is he talking about? I fold my arms, "_What?_"

"Nott!" he exclaims in a frustrated tone, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away from me, "You can't go out with him."

I stride across the room until I'm right next to him. Grey eyes stay averted to the wall while my brown eyes remain firmly on the man in front of me, "Did you come over here to tell me that? Because if you did, you're wasting your b—"

He cuts his eyes at me, coldly, "Look—"

"No, _you_ look, Draco…" I stomp my foot in anger, "You've got no right to bust in my flat after ignoring me for _three_ days, interrupt my night with my mates, and tell me who I can and who I can't date. You've got some fucking nerve, Draco! I don't know what _else_ crawled up your arse and died but I suggest it crawls out. I don't appreciate you showing up here and treating me like you own me."

Sneers, "I never said I did."

This ominous silence falls between us and suddenly I find myself tired. I'm tired of yelling and screaming. I'm tired of his mood swings when everything goes from good to bad in an instant. I'm tired of his temper tantrums when he, like now, comes barreling into the room, angry about Merlin knows what.

And I'm really tired of being frustrated.

"Draco," I look at him with pure frustration in my eyes, "why the hell are we fighting? I don't even know what the fuck we're arguing about. Just be honest with me about what's bothering you."

Six silent minutes later, after dusting his pants off, Draco lets loose a sigh and looks at me, "I don't want you to go out with Nott."

"Why not? Are you jealous of him or something?" I peer at him pryingly.

"No," he says rather dully and I think he's lying.

I reel at the thought and possibility of Draco actually being jealous of someone who asked me out.

"Because w-we're—" groans in aggravation, "we…" he trails off and takes a few steps away from me, clearly teetering on edge.

He doesn't stutter…what the hell is wrong with him?

Confused at Draco's sudden inability to speak, "We're what? Last I checked we're two single people who can do and date whoever the hell we want. We may be having a baby together, but we're not bound to each other, you've got no hold on me and what I do." I put my hands on my hips, I just want him to spit out whatever is the matter with him so I can kick him out and get back to playing the "If" game with my mates. "Draco, why do you not want me to go out with Nott? Just tell me, just be honest, and stop—"

"He's not good enough for you."

Well, that's not an answer I expected to come from him. Now I'm curious.

Inquisitively, "Oh, and who do you think is good enough for me?"

"No one," he admits with a grumble, "But, I was—" Draco pauses and fixes his lips sternly, like he's determined.

Our eyes lock and I see a bit of softness in them, just a touch, just enough to make me no longer want to dangle him in front of the fireplace until the end of time.

When he speaks, he turns his head away from me, but his voice is raw and honest, "No one is good enough for you, Hermione…but I'm really just hoping I'm not out of chances with you."

I've dreamed about this moment for years, albeit my dreams don't have him barreling into my flat and they don't involve me looking hideous in plaid pajama pants and a tank top that's a bit too tight with my hair on top of my head in a messy bun…and I'm not pregnant in this dream either.

Try as I may, I can't deny the feelings I have for him. I just can't.

"Are you saying all this because of the baby?" I have to make sure because I want him to want me, not just because of this baby, not because of sympathy either.

I'm sure he's so frustrated with me right now that he wants to throw something, but he just sighs and speaks to me with his eyes closed, "No, the baby has nothing to do with this. I just want a chance. That's all I've wanted for the last three years, one month, and twenty-nine days. Just a chance." his eyes open and pierce right into mine.

And everything makes sense right now.

"Oh, Merlin, you _were_ jealous of Nott, don't try to deny it, you were," I realize aloud, thumping myself in the head for being so blind and stupid not to realize it, "That's why you were so quiet after we walked away from him, that's why you've been avoiding me for three days, that's why you came here tonight trying to convince me not to date him. You panicked when I told you he asked me out…now it all makes sense."

"Glad to quench your curiosity," he says rather harshly, glaring at me sharply. It's the kind of glare one gives when you've hit a soft spot dead on and it hurts…the truth always hurts.

"Draco," I sigh and look at him, "you really don't have a reason to be jealous."

"Oh, I don't? He was—"

I cut him off before he can argue his point, "Nott's been asking me out for weeks in his own subtle ways, but there's no way I'd ever date him. There's something not right with him, he's condescending and more self-centered than you are. I'd rather sit with you in silence than listen to him rattle on about his life…at least you _care_ about me. He's rude to me all the time; he's always questioning everything like I'm lying to him, even when I'm not. I can think of a trillion reasons why I won't date him, but it all boils down to one—"

Draco interrupts, "Which is what, Hermione?" his voice is soft and calm and I feel him move in front of me.

My eyes wander up his 6'1" frame until they rest on his eyes, "He's not you."

With those words spoken, we stand in silence, staring at one another and letting the words reverberate and bounce off the walls.

All I can do is think about the whirlwind we've been through in the past three and a half month, how we've gone from a confused, painful mass of nothing to, dare I say it, _something_. We've gone from having sex to screaming; from lust to hate; from pleasure to pain; from ignorance to familiarity; from strangers to friends. I've gone from wanting nothing to do with him to planning to raise a _child_ with him.

And all this thinking has only made me realize just how fucked up we are.

No, seriously.

Draco and I are fucked up.

Us as a couple will be the most toxic relationship known to man. We'll flicker between two extremes, we'll fight and play, we'll have good days and bad days…but I'm positive that we'll do it all together because no matter how fucked up we are, I'm beginning to think that there is something between him and I, something inexplicable, something palpable.

It's like every single time I try to rid my life of him, something always happens that brings us back together.

It's like someone or something is trying to tell us something…

…something we're too bloody stubborn to listen to.

"Draco," my voice is soft, "Why do you think it took us three years to confess all of that to each other? Why do you think it's taken me starting a new career, running away from you, a slew of fights and mixed signals and miscommunication, a lot of insanity and a baby to get us to this point?"

He sighs, "I don't know."

"Do you honestly think we can make it work?"

"I don't know that either, but I think we should at least attempt."

"We should…maybe take our time, let things develop, not just rush into things, be honest, and communicate this time."

A small smirk appears, "Sounds like a plan."

"We've never had one of those before so I figured we may need one this time."

…but maybe I'm beginning to understand all this relationship business better.

I think I understand why none of my past relationships have worked out, why Draco is as clueless as he is about being involved with someone, and why the two of us can't communicate any of our feelings unless we're at each other's throats…and I've come to the conclusion that I'm missing a textbook.

Seriously…but the horrible thing about this missing textbook is that it doesn't even fucking _exist_.

There's no textbook on how you should meet a person, who you should meet, what you should say to the person you meet, or even how you can make things work between that person.

But that doesn't mean people won't try to write one to make a quick buck of some hapless soul. Merlin, there are a trillion and one advice books that claim to have the answers, there are all these ads on television claim they can get you matched with the perfect man of your dreams, Witch Weekly constantly publishes all these little articles that claim to have all the answers about men and relationships, there are a million psychologists and love doctors who claim they know exactly what they're writing about…but they're all lies.

Every single one of them.

There's no blueprint to relationships or even love.

Each relationship is different and special.

Some relationships, like Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, come easy. Others, like Harry and Ginny, don't come as easy as people think. And some, like me and Draco, are next to impossible…but not unattainable.

It just means we're going to have to work harder than everyone else to make it work. That just means we have to muddle our way through everything, together, we have to try, we have to want it to work out, and we have to go through hell and high water before we find some happy medium.

We're so similar, I've come to realize. We're extremely stubborn, proud, guarded, and bad-tempered. We have a tendency to walk away from arguments and I'm sure we equally drive one another crazy. In knowing this, I have to think before I get angry at him, trust him enough to allow myself to give in to him, and I have to be patient. And Draco has to learn how to communicate with me, trust me enough to let me in, and to not be so bloody proud.

Draco and I…we're going to be amazing when it's good, terrible when it's bad and disastrous when it's ugly…but with his stubbornness and mine, with his charm and my brains, and with his unwavering composure and my moments of sheer insanity, I'm sure we'll be damned before we give up without a fight…

"Hermione…" his voice is cool and even.

I don't have a second longer to think about love or relationships or how hard we're going to be fighting to stay together because before I know it I feel his body press against mine ever so slightly and I feel cool lips press against my forehead tentatively. Strangely, he smells of cologne and floo powder, and the combination makes me smile.

Draco wraps his arms around me, pulling my body into his…and the world is still.

* * *

How was that? Good? I hope you liked it. 


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling does.

Author's Note: Thanks again for all the positive reviews. This is the longest chapter I've ever written. It's like 16 pages on my computer and it took forever to write...and definitely my hardest chapter, a lot happens. Chapter 9 is finished, I'm 2 pages into chapter 10...and I think everyone will like it. I know I do. 9 is one of my favorite chapters. So, when I finish 10, I'll post it. Until then, happy reading. Don't forget to read and review. Peace!

* * *

_At Cavanaugh Park, _

_Where I used to think that this life would be good _

_And I would do things that I thought that I should_

_And no one's going to tear me down_

"_Cavanaugh Park"—Something Corporate_

_(Three weeks later: October 15__th)_

I love parks.

There's something about the nature here that's magical.

Here, a tree isn't just a tree here, but a storyteller rich with history. The initials carved into its bark tell a quick love story; one we don't know how it begins or ends. Maybe they stay together, maybe they don't, but all we know is right then and right there they were in love.

And I love watching people interact with nature.

How they walk around in awe of everything, even if they've been here a hundred times. I can see the exact moment a sense of peace washes over them. They're happy and it no longer matters how bad their day was before they arrived or what they have to do when they go back to the real world. All that matters is here and now and I really think this is the human race at its finest.

Today, on this uncommonly warm Saturday afternoon, my eyes wander to the concession stands, filled to the brim with little kids and their parents and other adults, all looking happy and excited and smiling and it makes me wonder about their lives. It makes me wonder what they do for a living, if they're married, if they have kids, who they are here with, their hobbies, if their kids are around, why they come to this park, and if they are as happy as they look.

But these questions go unanswered.

I'm sidetracked when I see a couple who look very much in love take their place at the end of the line.

How do I know they are in love? It's obvious, really.

I see the man and woman holding hands and I find myself watching them. Sometimes I think I know what it feels like to be that close to someone, but I'm not sure. Sometimes I think I know how it feels to care about someone so much they I can't stand to walk beside them without holding their hand and showing the world that _"he's with me and I care for him."_

They're smiling at this cute kid eating popcorn and I bet they're wondering about their own future kids. I see her smile and laugh at something he says. He smiles back, leaning over to kiss her.

The sight brings a smile to my face.

"Hermione," a voice breaks into my reverie.

My head whips around when I hear my name, and quickly my eyes rest on Draco.

Eyes glance at my watch and I see he's just on time. He's approaching the bench I'm sitting on, pale as ever and dressed in this crisp black suit, looking firm, as always. But now his lips slightly turn heavenward when he sees me. In his hand is a picnic basket and it may not be much to anyone else, his slight smile or his picnic basket, but to me, it's everything I've ever dreamed about.

And this sight brings a smile to my face too.

When he drops a kiss on my cheek, I chide gently, "You look kind of ridiculous dressed in all black."

Dryly, "I have an image to uphold."

"I'm sure you do…Draco Malfoy, crypt-keeper." I laugh at myself.

Draco rolls his eyes.

"I'm dying to know how you're not hot."

"Coolant charms."

Smirks, "I thought so."

With a soft snort, he takes my hand in his, helps me off the bench, and leads us to the perfect spot away from everyone to set up our picnic. One hand rests on my back while the other rests on my slightly and noticeably larger bump, my face is twisted into a humored smile, and my eyes watch Draco as he lays the blanket on a patch of grass, sits on the blanket, and opens the basket. With slight hesitance, I sit across from Draco, legs crossed in Indian-style, eager to see what he's brought.

We've been having lunch in a different park everyday for the last week, when the weather permits.

It's just so pretty out here, I find myself craving to be outdoors all the time, and he doesn't argue, much.

Leaning forward a little, I ask in a curious voice, "Did you bring the peanut butter?"

He whips out a little individual tube of peanut butter, "Yes."

I take the tube, tear it open with my teeth, and quench my craving, "Oh, that's good peanut butter…did you bring the cookie?" I sit the empty tube down and smile eagerly like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Yes…_and_ the skittles." He produces an individual cookie in a little paper bag and a bag of skittles.

I tuck the skittles in my purse and take a bite from the cookie before sitting it next to the empty plastic tube, "You should be nominated for sainthood…oh," I remember suddenly, "What about the ham sub?"

He pulls out the sub with a slight chuckle, "Yes…six inches, with the mayo, mustard, lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles, no pepper…and I remembered the apple juice." He hands me both.

I open the sub, nod with approval, close it, and take a bite from it, "Must've had your assistant running all over muggle London to get all that stuff, huh?"

Evenly, "No, I got it."

Astonished, I gasp, "Seriously?"

"Yes,_ seriously_, it wasn't hard. Just made a few calls and picked it up on the way here."

Quietly, I giggle at the thought of Draco picking up random food before asking, "What did you bring for yourself?" I take a few more bites of my sub.

"I had a brunch meeting this morning, I already ate."

"Well, I feel like a pig because I'm eating and you're not."

"Its okay, Hermione, just eat. I don't want to hear you whine about being hungry at the Quidditch match."

Yes, you heard him correctly.

We're going to Hogwarts to watch the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match in about three hours with Pansy, Ginny, and Ron.

I don't exactly know how I got roped into going. Pansy brought it up after this yoga class the three of us are taking together since we can't go jogging together in the mornings and Ginny said she wanted to go. Ginny brought it up to Ron and he said he wanted to go. Ginny also mentioned it to Draco while he was dropping me off by floo after taking me for ice-cream after work. And Draco brought it up to me in an owl two days ago.

The next thing I know, I'm going too. Well, it beats being alone…and it'll be nice to see Hogwarts.

"Not like you're going to hear me anyway," I smirk, "You're going to be all into the match…all of you are."

Fifteen minutes later, I finish eating and find myself stretched out across the blanket, my head in Draco's lap, staring at the sky with one hand in his and the other resting thoughtfully on my stomach. There is this constant whooshing sensation happening now. It's the baby moving. I haven't told him that it happens everytime he touches my stomach, but that's the truth. I have a feeling our baby recognizes its father and at that thought, my heart swells to capacity.

After searching for a week, we've found the perfect doctor yesterday and to celebrate we had our first official date last night. I have to admit it went well.

We had dinner at Malfoy Manor where we didn't speak a word about the baby, with my hand clasped in his we walked around the beautiful gardens (the only part that remained after the manor was torn down) where Draco pointed out every flower and tree that he could recognize or held some significance to his family, and we ended the night in the hammock Pansy bought for our patio, just talking. It was simple; I've been pretty tired lately and I don't think I could've taken anything more strenuous.

And as I sit here, I begin to wonder, if I weren't pregnant, would we be here right now? I don't know if I can answer that, to be honest, because I can't live my life thinking "what if?" All I can do is live in the now and right now, all the circumstances have led us to where we are right now.

Right now, Draco's starting to slowly open up to me.

Right now, I'm starting to allow myself to relax, slightly.

Right now, Draco's starting to unwind, just a bit.

And right now, I'm at peace…with everything.

* * *

_And I won't back down_

_And I won't turn around and around _

_And I won't back down_

_Cause no matter if the world comes crashing down_

_I'm still going to stand my solid ground._

"_Won't Back Down"—Mat Kearney_

_(Six hours later)_

The_ "Go, go, Gryffindor!"_ celebration chant is on and I sit here in the neutral seats, feeling nostalgic at best.

With a diving leap for the snitch, the Gryffindor seeker puts them over Slytherin 240 to 100.

"Yes!" Ginny and Ron exclaim, jumping from their seats.

Draco scorns a cheering Ron and shoves ten galleons into his open palm. Ron does a little dance in his seat that makes us all laugh outrageously. Ginny pumps her fist in the air and sticks her tongue out at a sulking Pansy.

"We always were better and we always will be." Ron brags.

"Oh, can it, Weasley!" Pansy sneers, "They let those bloody Gryffindors win out of pity."

"You sound a bit bitter, Pans." Luna comments dreamily.

All of us laugh.

Pansy folds her arms across her chest and looks at Luna with a raised eyebrow, "You were in Ravenclaw, why the hell are you cheering for Gryffindor?"

Luna shrugs, "When Ravenclaw isn't playing I like to cheer for the better team."

I snicker while Ginny and Ron outright laugh.

Draco looks at me and glowers, "I _know_ you've got something smart to say."

An innocuous smile appears on my face, "Of course not…it's just that—"

"Don't even go there."

Struggling to keep my affect flat, "I was merely pointing out that—"

Cold and threatening, his grip on my knee slightly tightens, "Hermione, I'm warning you."

"Now you know your threats don't scare me," I roll my eyes and swat at him like a fly on the wall, "All I was doing was merely commenting on the fact that even _without_ Harry, Slytherin still is inferior in Quidditch to the Gryffindors," and then I quickly high-five Ginny and Ron, who are still celebrating.

Draco sulks with Pansy, but his hand rests again on my knee.

I smile and my eyes catch the celebrating Gryffindors.

It's been four years since I last stood in the stands with Ginny and Luna with her life-like roaring lion head, Gryffindor scarf billowing in the wind, cheering for Harry and Ron like a maniac, as a Gryffindor. I can't believe it's really been four years. So much has changed, so much, and it's changed so fast. In four years, we've tested the bonds of friendship, lost a few dear friends, fought in a war, laughed and cried, gained a few more trusty friends, traveled all over Britain looking for horcruxes, and so much more that doesn't even spring forth in my mind.

My eyes drop down to Draco's hand that's resting on my knee.

That's a change too.

If someone told me four years ago that not only would I be officially dating Draco Malfoy, but we're to be parents of a baby in five months, I would've laughed in their face and deemed them mental like Professor Trelawney.

Four years ago my life was going down a completely different path. I wanted Ron more than I wanted anything ever, but he had Lavender. Four years ago, I was trying to convince Harry that Malfoy wasn't up to anything evil. Four years ago, I was harboring jealousy towards Harry's sudden increase in aptitude in Potions.

Four years ago. Wow.

Just thinking about all that makes me clutch my pea coat closer to me and makes me realize how completely different I am today than I was four years ago.

But it's not a bad different. I've managed to loosen up some, I've managed to live a little, I've managed to break a few rules (not that I hadn't before), and I even managed to see the good in things, even when they appear to be bad…

After the match, we head into the school to Professor Slughorn's office. He's invited us and a few of the other important alumni present for tea and treats in his office.

We're waiting for him to arrive when the door to his office opens and a loud gasp brings me out of my nostalgic daydreams, "Oh…bless my stars! Hermione Granger? Have my eyes failed me? Are you seriously here on your own accord at a Quidditch match?" her manicured hands rest on her heart as if the sight of me is giving her a heart attack.

Leave it to Parvati to be so bloody dramatic about these things.

I smile, getting up from my seat and approaching the witch in the expensive bright red robes and heels, "Parvati! Hey, how are you?" I hug her. I haven't seen her since the early part of Draco's birthday party before she disappeared with her date.

"Just wonderful," she replies in a posh manner.

I'm sure she is just wonderful. Parvati has made quite the name for herself in the social world. Knowing not only for her highly popular gossip column, she also has a hand in some serious hard-hitting journalism stories. How she manages to balance these things out, I'll never know, but she's handling it all marvelously.

She takes her place across the table from me, between Pansy and Ron, chatting very candidly about her job and this new story she's writing about the effects of the second war on the children of Voldemort's victims and I find myself intrigued.

"There are thousands of children in various wizarding orphanages all over Europe because of the second war and a lot of them are not being adopted," she begins, "Its like people don't want to associate with the second war. Padma's in the process of adopting a little girl right now and they aren't making it easy for her and Rodger. I hope that this story will change that."

Honestly, I don't think I've ever heard Parvati speak so passionately about a topic that didn't involve gossip and terrible breakups of couples who should be together. A bit shocking, really.

"I didn't know Padma and Rodger were adopting," Ginny comments.

"They've been trying almost a year now. They've been trying to give them a baby, but they want a little girl, she's about seven and her parents were killed because they didn't pass information to Voldemort about four years ago."

"That's horrible."

Conversation moves to a lighter note minutes before Slughorn comes walking in, jolly as ever. "It's so wonderful to have some of my best and most successful here," Slughorn raves, greeting us all. With a wave of his wand, tea and treats appear on the table in front of us, "So…what did you five think about the Quidditch match?"

While the four of them chatter on with Slughorn about the highlights of the match, how talented the teams are, and everything else, I find myself attracted to the peanut butter cookies on the table.

I can literally imagine how it tastes and I want it. I must have it. I must have it now.

So with a glare and a swat of my hand, I keep Ron's paws off the one I want while he and Pansy spar it out over the quality of the house teams this year.

Nobody is eating my goddamn cookie and I will fight the person who tries.

When Ron isn't looking, I snatch it for myself and savor it. It tastes better than I imagine.

Merlin. It's amazing. Why didn't anyone introduce me to the world of peanut butter goodness sooner? I've wasted _years_ of my life not eating it.

"Is it good?" a cool voice beside me inquires aloud.

My eyes fly open and lock with Draco's instantly, confused, "What? Is what good?"

"The cookie you're practically _molesting_," is his slightly humored reply.

"Shut up, it's peanut butter," I cut back, looking at him like he's stupid. Of course it's good. It's peanut butter!

Hearing the exchange, Ginny snickers at us, which makes the argument end and everyone turn their attention to the giggling redhead.

Parvati is confused, "What's so funny?"

Ginny shakes her head, "It's hard to explain."

Suddenly warm, I stand to remove my pea coat, making sure I hang it on the back of my chair. Draco mouths a quick _"are you okay?"_ and I nod with a tiny grin, a bit touched that he's concerned. I'm about to sit back down when Parvati gasps in shock, "Hermione!"

Startled by her outburst, I jump and look at her crazy, "What?"

"You're—you're pregnant!" she exclaims with strangled breath.

And all eyes shift to me. I sit timidly back in my seat, "Hadn't realized it was _that_ obvious."

"Merlin, your shirt is fitted, it's obvious!"

Slughorn pipes up to this bit of news, "My, my, that's certainly is good news. Your baby will no doubt take after you, Miss. Granger," he comments, stuffing a cookie into his mouth. Better had not been a peanut butter one or he's going down.

Parvati squeals, "Hermione, I'm so excited…you and Ron must—"

Draco looks furious.

Ron's face goes from smiling to about as white as a sheet in about a nanosecond. It's like night and day and right now he looks like he did when he puked up snails.

He stammers out almost in hysterics, "_Ron?_ What does _Ron_ have to do with anything?" I really hate it when Ron speaks about himself in the third person. Just ridiculous.

Parvati looks like she's about to have an aneurysm from thinking too hard, "But she's carrying—"

He throws his hands up as if to say _"no bloody way"_ and shakes his head vigorously like the thought of us having a baby together is equivalent to being trapped in a room full of death eaters with no way out, "Ron is _not_ the father of Hermione's baby. Not Ron, _no way_," I glare at him, a bit offended by his tone, but he quickly cleans it up, "Uh, umm…it's not that I—I wouldn't mind—" he's cut off by a glare from Draco that has the potential to do some serious damage, "Oh, bloody hell, I can't please anyone, Ron will just shut up and eat his bloody cookie." He sulks while a cackling Ginny pats his back and the equally humored Pansy ruffles his red hair.

She takes a sip of tea, thoughtful, "Well, if it's not Ron—"

"And it's _not_ Ron's," Ron informs again, "let me be _perfectly_ clear about that. Ron is _not_ going to be a father."

Vaguely annoyed, I fold my arms across my chest, "You can stop talking about yourself in the third person, Ron."

He flashes a smile, gingerly.

"Well if Ron's not the father, who is?" Parvati stares at me intently, as if she can just pluck the answer from my head if she looks hard enough.

Sorry, but I'm not a ruddy pensieve and I'm good at Occlumency.

Draco stirs his tea patiently for a moment before replying squarely, "I am."

I don't know what happens first: Parvati's jaw dropping dangerously close the table or Slughorn's eyes nearly bulging from his sockets. But Slughorn, after stammering quite a bit and nearly choking on his tea, speaks up, "Merlin, the first Malfoy heir. I think it's wonderful that you're pregnant, Miss. Granger, your baby, no doubt will be a fine addition to Hogwarts books."

Graciously, I smile.

"Excuse me professor, but _holy shit_, you and Malfoy…" I can see the wheels in Parvati's head spinning out of control, never a good thing when you're dealing with Parvati Patil, "having a baby together…" she keeps on speaking, rather breathlessly, like she's trying to grasp what this really means. Mystified by her barmy behavior, I watch Draco's brow rises slowly; a humorous smile splashes across my face, "Merlin, this will be _huge_ news…just huge!" her eyes rest on us and a small evil smile appears. Oh no. "Can I please, _please_ make the announcement in my column?"

Head in hands, I groan, "Parvati—"

She's in full-on begging mode, "Oh, pretty please! Please! It'll be the biggest issue ever!"

"Yeah and I'll get harassed by everyone."

"They're going to find out anyway, it's not like you can hide it," Pansy says with a shrug, "It can't hurt…"

Ginny and Ron agree with a nod of their head.

Staring at the table thoughtfully, "I haven't told everyone yet. I haven't told Mr. and Mrs. Weasley or my boss."

"I can wait until you do," an excited Parvati barters.

"Well," my eyes scan the table for another peanut butter cookie. Draco hands me a napkin with one peanut butter cookie inside and I find myself grinning at him. He just shakes his head. I take a bite before looking at a mildly humored Parvati, who finally realizes that I have a peanut butter craving, "I think this is something Draco and I need to talk about, and now isn't the time."

"Time for what?" a familiar voice speaks up from the doorway.

Everything falls to a dead silence, except Parvati who is, I think, talking to herself. My eyes slowly make their way to the door to Slughorn's office. I don't even know why I'm looking; I already know who it is: the omnipresent Theodore Nott, who looks just as detached and creepy as usual.

For a moment, I just survey Theodore Nott. His brown hair, and hard, angular face, almost chiseled out of rock, trying to disguise his agitation. His slightly nervous stance tells me he's a bit uneasy about walking into a crowded room, but tries to hide it with a façade of confidence. His eyes like quartz, twin blaze of blue that land right on me. I quickly look away.

Draco visibly tenses.

Pansy and Ginny exchange looks.

Luna stares around the quiet room.

Ron pathetically excuses himself to go visit the Gryffindor common room to chat with the Quidditch players.

"Oh, Theodore Nott! There you are. I thought you left after the match…I was so fascinated with your work at the ministry. Are you joining us?" Slughorn asks, but jumps from his seat and leads him to the last free seat, next to me. Fuck. "Sit, sit, you haven't missed much. Miss. Granger was just announcing her pregnancy. If you'll excuse me for a few minutes, I'll be right back. Then we can chat all about what you all have been up to."

He walks right out the door, leaving us all here, sitting in an uncomfortable silence.

That son of a…

Nott's eyes turn to me.

I don't see his eyes, but I can feel them, so I avoid eye contact as much as possible. He makes me uncomfortable—maybe it's the fact that he's always staring at me, I muse. It's like he's always trying to stare straight into my mind, to find some discrepancy with my stories. No thank you, no seeing my thoughts today. Draco pulls our entwined hands over onto his lap, probably to make me feel better and I really do appreciate the unspoken sign of support…that he's with me even though things are likely to get very ugly.

The new addition to the room clears his throat and speaks in astonished tones, "You're pregnant?"

Draco replies in a rather sarcastic voice, "Why would she announce her pregnancy if she wasn't pregnant?"

My head whirls around to him, "Draco, stop being a git."

"It's kind of hard for him to stop what comes so naturally." Nott sneers.

A shiver races up my spine when Draco blasts an icy look that's colder than the iceberg that sank the Titanic. He looks ready to pounce on Nott, "Fuck you; you've been jealous of me since we were children."

Laughs, "Oh, you wish. Why would I be jealous of someone who's head is so swollen he can barely fit out the room?"

Are they seriously hurling insults like children? Yes, I do believe they are. Pansy looks as humored as I feel, but I don't dare crack a smile because all of a sudden, I'm at full understanding that I'm in the worst seat ever.

Draco yawns as if bored with him and the argument, then addresses him with an apathetic drawl for effect, "Can't come up with anything better than that, Nott? Well, that's just pathetic, isn't it? However, it's not terribly surprising. I know this may be hard for you, but _do_ try to be more creative next time and not try to attack me with insults I've heard ever since 1st year. It's weak and trifling and I don't feel the need to waste my breath responding."

Holy shit.

I look at Pansy with helpless eyes, only to see her having a silent conversation with Ginny. Luna is humming a song I don't recognize and Parvati is watching the sparring match I'm currently in the middle of, thoroughly confused, but amused.

Nott wisely backs down from his argument with Draco, but turns his attention to me, coldly asking, "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant? I thought we were friends."

_Friends_? What the bloody hell is he gabbing on about us being friends? Is he serious? I don't know who tenses more, me or Draco, but all I do know is that my hand hurt a bit.

Slowly, I pull my hand from his and shake the feeling back into it under the table, my eyes firmly set on Nott.

How can he claim to be my friend when he knows nothing about me? How can he claim to be my friend when he sneers at me, when he doesn't even care about anything concerning me, and when all he ever does is drone on and on about himself and his day. And sure, we've had tea together a few times, only because I was waiting for Pansy, I just don't understand where he got the idea that we were friends.

"It was more on a need to know basis," I explain weakly.

"Well, who's the father?"

"I am," is Draco's icy cold answer.

Nott shakes his head, "I confess I'm disappointed in you Hermione Granger, I thought you had better taste."

I feel as if he slapped me full in the face and I feel myself reeling at his words. Every single word is full of this stinging contempt and dislike—and something that suspiciously sounds like regret. With little effort, my mind flashes back to my dad and all of a sudden I'm seeing fucking colors.

In an explosion of rage, I slam my fist on the table just as Draco jumps from his seat, ready to defend and flushed with anger, "_What?_ Who the fuck do you think you are? What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean? You two may not fucking like each other, but leave me, my taste, and our baby out of your petty little bullshit." I get up, turn to him, and rest my hand on his chest to calm him and his racing heartbeat, "Sit down, Draco, please."

Luna is startled to silence by my outburst and moves from her spot next to Draco to the empty spot next to Ginny. From the corner of my eye, I see Pansy holding her wand out to me, as if silently asking, _"Do you need it?"_ With a small shake of my head because I have mine, I lock eyes with Draco, willing him to just sit down so we can get through this tea without hurling curses and hexes. "Please, Draco."

Frigidly, he responds, "Not until he apologizes to you."

My heart flutters and races at this for this demented reason: he's _defending_ me.

Part of me just wants to sit back and watch him fight for me, but the more rational part starts speaking first, "It doesn't matter, just stop being so fucking proud and sit down."

"No, I _want_ an apology. He has no right—"

"I wouldn't wait on that, Malfoy," Nott interjects, "I'd rather go to Azkaban than apologize."

"And you bloody well deserve to be there."

"Who the hell are you to talk about deserving to be in Azkaban? After what you did 6th year, I'm sure there's a cell with your name on it, but no, you get to walk around free, live your life, do whatever the hell you want, and spawn bastards."

My blood hits its boiling point. I spin around and I don't know where the hell Pansy comes from, but she appears on my side, hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me down.

I detect she's doing the same thing to Draco and its not working. His dark words convince me of his anger, "The only bastard I see in this room is you."

"This baby is not a bastard!" I exclaim at the same time, voice cracking from sheer ire.

"Well, if it walks like a duck, talks like a duck…I'm sure you can figure out the rest."

"You are way out of line, Nott," Ginny argues, eyes blazing, "you have no right to talk about anyone like that."

"Stay out of this, Ginevra."

With a firm grip, Luna keeps her in the chair, "Call me that one more fucking time and I will forget I'm a witch, jump across this table, and beat your arse with my bare fucking hands."

Nott ignores Ginny and stares at me, "You let this little git get your pregnant? What were you thinking?"

Draco jeers, "Only you, Nott, wouldn't know how the process works. Haven't had enough experience in the area, hmm?"

"Shut up, Draco! You're not making this any easier," I exclaim and turn my head to Nott, "And you, you don't have a right to talk to my boyfriend like that…or me for the matter. I'm four months pregnant, Draco is the father and he's my boyfriend, and that's the end." I say finality, indicating that the conversation is over.

A tense silence quickly befalls on us all.

I sit down and scoot my chair closer to a seething but seated Draco. His hand finds mine and takes my fingers in a soft squeeze. He does that a lot these days, while we're on the hammock, when we're sitting in the living room, when I'm lying on his lap in the park after eating, when we're talking, when we're walking down Diagon Alley, all the time. And I confess that his presence is one of the main reasons I start to calm down…the other reason is the peanut butter cookie I'm currently enjoying.

Too bad my friends aren't. Ginny is ready to fight. Pansy is back in her seat, but frowning and glaring at Nott, who's breathing hard for some unknown reason. Poor Parvati is fucking confused. And Luna is now eating a cookie, completely spaced out.

Nott's rueful laughter fills the tense room, "I can't believe I wasted my breath asking you out all those times."

"I can't either." I finish my cookie.

"You're nothing special, nothing like I thought…just another knocked up loser."

Unbridled rage spills from me and there is no sponge strong enough to soak it up. I don't know where it comes from but the next thing I know I've mustered up the strength to take out a hundred men and I use it to shove Nott out his chair. His body hits the floor hard, so hard dishes on the table rattle, Parvati jumps, and Nott groans, releasing a few choice curse words as he slowly picks himself up off the floor…only to see me standing over him, wand pointed threateningly at him.

He pales.

"Now that I have your attention," I speak sadistically, pushing the chair that separates us out the way, "I want a fucking apology, right now, and if you don't give it to me in five seconds, Hogwarts is going to be littered with pieces of you. I can guaran-fucking-tee that."

I'm particularly pleased with his _"just shit my pants"_ expression.

* * *

_But I can't spell it out for you, _

_No it's never gonna be that simple_

_No I can't spell it out for you. _

_If you just realize what I just realized, _

_Then we'd be perfect for each other _

_And will never find another._

"_Realize"—Colbie Caillat_

_(The next night: October 9__th)_

"Is there anything you need?" Luna asks before stepping into the fireplace to floo home.

Shakes my head, "Not really, but the pizza is on its way and that's all I need. Thanks for asking."

With a quick grin, Luna leaves in a burst of green flames and everything is silent.

So here I am; a sight for sore eyes with frizzy hair and crumpled clothes.

The flat is cool and eerily quiet without Ginny here. She's at an extended Quidditch practice and I realize that when she's out of town for matches, those nights will be the longest. I'll have to invite Pansy or Luna over to keep me company.

I don't think I could live here alone. Even with her here, sometimes our three-bedroom flat seems too big for just the two of us. But, I suppose, we're going to need the extra space soon too.

Meditatively, my thoughts drift to Draco as my hand drifts to my stomach.

We got into a colossal row on the train home from Hogwarts; what we were fighting about was so meaningless I don't even remember exactly what it was about. It started with a joke and morphed into something horrible. Still, the fight was so intense and our voices were so loud Pansy put a strong silencing charm on us while she, Ginny, and Luna moved to a different compartment, leaving us alone to glare and frown at one another.

He told me once we arrived on the platform, that when I decide to calm the fuck down, let him know so we can talk like mature adults and not teenagers. Obviously, we haven't spoken since.

I'm not really mad anymore. I can even admit that I'm at fault. But I can't swallow my pride enough to apologize.

Not yet anyway.

Oh, come on, I'm a work in progress. I'll get it together soon.

Until then, he plagues my thoughts, as he often does.

Draco Malfoy is everything I hated as a child, yet everything I want as an adult. It goes to show how much can change with a little time and a few changing events. He's quiet and serious most of the time, he can be intimidating sometimes, doesn't express his emotions well (if at all), I've never seen his face light up with a smile, and we still haven't kissed.

Yet none of that even matters much to me.

I still find myself wanting to be around him and sitting in front of my fireplace, waiting for him to come over and visit. Its nights like those that I'll go to sleep so incredibly happy that I thought those butterflies would literally combust in my stomach…

Ugh, I don't want to think about this now.

It just reminds me that he won't be visiting tonight and I'm probably going to sleep badly.

With a sigh, I sit up, pulling a blanket over me.

It's not that I'm freezing; it just seems like something to do. I'm about to get up, but out the corner of my eye, I see Ginny's pride and joy, our big screen television, the TV-aholic's wet dream.

I reach for the remote control on the coffee table and start flipping through the channels.

Two minutes, twelve sighs, and a slew of bad television, I come to the conclusion that nothing good ever comes on Sunday nights. I'm about to toss the remote back on the table when I hear the buzz of the doorbell.

Must be the pizza.

With a soft groan, I get up, grab the money sitting on the counter, and slowly open the door, pasting a smile on for the pizza boy, "Hi, how much is it again?"

A quizzical look flashes across his face, but it quickly spreads into a smile, "Oh, the pizza's been paid for already, tip and everything." He informs, handing me the steaming box.

I'm instantly confused, but I shove the money back in my pocket and take the box from the kid before he changes his mind or does something stupid. Still I'm skeptical, "I'm sorry, did you just say that it's been paid for? I didn't—"

"Yeah, but _he_ did."

Leaning to my right, I look over the pizza boy's shoulder and down the steps. Thinking my eyes are tricking me, I blink a few times when my eye catches Draco standing there, dressed in all black, serious, but looking a bit uneasy with his hands in his pockets. Oh shit. I can't breathe.

I look back at the boy, eyes wide and heart racing, "Umm…thanks. Have a good night."

"You too, ma'am," he grins and starts down the steps, two at a time, passing Draco who gives him a slight nod as a bit of a thank you.

When he's out of sight, I finally get the courage to ask, "W-what are you doing here?"

"I got tired of waiting on you…"

I completely understand what he means.

I remember a time when I was tired of waiting on him to stop, to think, and to notice me. I remember wondering if he'd ever get to the point where we could have a real, honest relationship; the kind of relationship where he'll just owl me to say hi, and worry if he doesn't hear back from me. Even the kind of relationship where he will drop by just because he likes sitting with me and talking, because I matter and because I cross his mind, and because, really, he likes me and my sense of humor enough to stick around.

Merlin, I don't want anyone to wait like that and I feel like an arse for making him wait…but at least he knows what it feels like.

Sometimes I still feel like I'm waiting. For what? I don't know. Maybe a sign to let me know that we'll make it after the baby is born…I don't know why the hell I think that, he's made it obvious he's wanted me longer than he's known about the baby, but sometimes I feel insecure about the entire thing. I guess that's when I typically say things that hurt his pride.

I still occasionally feel like I did the night of his party, lost and afraid and desperate to be wanted…even though I know he does, that he always has. I just feel nervous about things.

"…I'm not a patient person, never have been, you know that." He starts up the steps slowly and tentatively, as if he were approaching a vicious beast. He always approaches me like that. Like I'm going to snap, whip out my wand, and blast him away.

With a quick glance, I sit the steaming hot pizza on the end table next to the door and stand straight in the doorway, "To be honest, I don't even remember what we were fighting about," I admit softly, "But I'm sorry for the things I said, being stubborn, and not clearing this up sooner."

Draco stands two steps from the top, "Me too."

We're face-to-face, the same height now, and I step towards him slowly, "Well, umm…would you like some pizza? You did pay for it, after all."

A tiny smile emerges, "Pizza sounds good…are we okay?"

"Yes."

"Good…because we're done fighting, or at least I am," and his arms wrap around me just as lips capture mine in what is the softest kiss I've ever experienced.

Our first kiss is nothing special to anyone else, but to me, it's like the beginning of a story, full of potential and no direction. But at the same time, Merlin, there's like a mini-explosion occurring inside me and all I can do is cling to him and wade it out. All I can do is go with it because I realize there's no going back from this moment…not that I would anyway.

I'm in big trouble because the sleeping dragon is awake and unleashing all kinds of horror within me…

…all this is just from his lips touching mine…

But they linger and I find myself wanting more, so much more I can barely contain it. My hands move from my side and wrap around his neck, pulling him close, deepening our kiss, enjoying the feeling of his tongue on mine, flickering as his lips move against mine. I want him so much closer than he is now.

Draco seems to have the same feeling too because his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer too.

As we kiss, I wonder if there will ever be a time when I won't want the arms that hold me now, a time when I won't want the lips that are kissing me now. Will we ever change?

We're 21 and 22 years old now, of course we're going to change…we still have some growing up to do. All I can do is hope that we don't change to the point where we don't want each other anymore.

But still I wonder if the feelings I'm experiencing now will change to a complacent familiarity? Is this any different from any other kiss I've experienced?

With each passing second, each second this kiss extends, every sigh from Draco's lip, every touch of his hand, and well, _everything_, I come closer to the realization that this _is_ different…and better and more and everything I've dreamed of, wanted, needed from another person because it's true and real.

There's a raw gentleness and warmth in him, gentleness and warmth I never knew existed and as I experience it, I give it back and he gives back more until I'm sure I'll explode.

And just before I do, I pull away, breathing just as heavily as he is.

Licking my lips, I smile, rather winded, and stare into his glassy eyes, "How many slices do you want?"

His brows furrow in confusion, "Slices…of?"

Oh to hell with it, I'm in no mood for pizza anymore anyway. So I pull him into the flat and shut the door.

This is so wrong, so wrong and so right, all together, and I don't find I care much, if at all…

It's all because of the way he's looking at me right now, it's a look I've seen hundreds of times in the past, but don't recognize until right now.

Affection.

Everytime I've seen that look I've let my reserve down lower just the smallest bit and it used to frighten me. Now I know why I let myself go; now I know what it means. Now I understand just how much I care for him, want him, need him, and that it's all reciprocal.

Right now I want to act out every fantasy I've ever had about him…and I want him to enjoy them as much as I do.

Draco cups my face and stares into my eyes, letting his thumbs trace my face, over my cheeks and chin, over my lips.

His fingers are shaking…have they ever done that before?

I have just a moment to think about everything, about the actions I'm about to willingly undertake, the knowledge that if I continue to let him kiss me this way, there is no going back, this is the point of no return and in this instant I make my decision. Leaning further into his kiss, the decision is made; the devil on my left shoulder is kicking the shit out of the angel on my right shoulder.

Somehow we end up in my bedroom, but I can't remember leading him here or closing the door or taking off my baggy top, but there it is, in his hands. Draco drops it to the floor.

I'm half laying, half sitting on the end of my bed and Draco is standing over me, looking down at me like a god and I reach for the ends of him jacket, determined to do what I've wanted to do ever since…well forever.

The jacket peels off his shoulders slowly, reluctantly, as if it knows what an honor it is to be on his muscular shoulders and arms and back. The next thing to go is the black shirt underneath; Draco assists in unbuttoning, starting from the top while I start from the bottom. Our hands meet in the middle and I reach up, running my hands up the smooth skin of his body until I reach his shoulders and slowly push his shirt off his shoulders.

The hunger I feel for Draco is almost nauseating. I'm the weak one. I'm the needy one. I'm the desperate one. And if it means I have to touch him, lick him, taste him…I don't fucking care.

I'll regret this later. Right now…right now I'm shaking because I want him so badly.

"Draco," I begin, hoarsely.

"Shh…don't speak, not now, not yet."

He kneels in front of me, helping me out of my shoes and socks and I feel myself swaying from just the raw emotions flooding every single sense I possess. Through lidded eyes, I watch him work to peel down the short off my legs. I lift up just a bit to make things easier for him.

Then he presses me to the bed and straddles my legs, each move is deliberate, each of his touches a caress. He's drops kisses everywhere, but all I want is his lips on mine. I close my eyes for a moment, relaxing under his gaze, and familiarizing myself with his touch once again as his hands and lips explore my body.

When I open them again, the room is almost dark and Draco and his slightly pink lips are hovering over mine.

"Please," I hear myself asking in a foreign voice that doesn't sound like me at all.

Draco leans down, gently, trying not to crush me, and begins to kiss me again, starting from the very top of my head and working his way down. One of his hand strokes my stomach, making circles around the bump, teasing my belly button as he sucks the sensitive skin where my neck meets my shoulder light at first. Like a rag doll, my head lolls limply to the side, offering more skin to his mouth. He accepts the present; kisses become more aggressive, biting and sucking at my neck.

His hands are everywhere, they're hot against my skin and I feel myself gasping.

"That good?" he asks with a thick voice, face against my neck.

"Yes."

He licks a line around my jaw and slips his tongue between my lips for a long, satisfying kiss that somewhat quenches my thirst before resuming his path…

By the time Draco's mouth meets up with my fingers, I've tangled my fingers in his hair and I'm guiding him. Draco lifts his head and looks up the length of my body as he pulls me to the edge of the bed gently and moves to the floor, on his knees—

_BUZZ!_

The sound of the doorbell buzzing interrupts everything and startles us back to reality.

"Oh, fuck!" I groan in aggravation, throwing my arm over my eyes.

"Exactly my sentiments," Draco drops his head on my knee, sounding as frustrated as I feel and then some.

His lips touch my knee and slowly I pull myself up, wrapping my arms around him shoulders, pulling him against my warm body and into a sizzling kiss. With every ounce of passion I possess, I use it to kiss Draco and I'm rewarded with him moaning in my mouth as he envelops me in his arms so firmly, like he never wants to let me go.

Needless to say, I have every intention of ignoring the door.

_BUZZ!_

The buzzing persists and it really is starting to kill the mood. Draco pulls away and rests his forehead against mine.

Draco chuckle is regretful and breathless, "They aren't leaving, huh?"

_BUZZ!_

Gloomily, I sigh, "Apparently not."

With a hard sigh and another kiss, Draco is the first to get to his feet. Immediately, he pulls me off the bed. I throw back on my shirt and shorts and leave him to dress while I rush out the room to answer the door.

Fully prepared to give the person on the other side of this door an earful of how much I do not appreciate the interruption, I throw open the door and standing there looking as perfect as ever, is my step-mother, Anne. Holy shit, what is she doing here?

Her grin brightens when she sees me, "Oh, Hermione! Hi! I was hoping you'd be home! How are you?"

Wide eyed and about speechless, I start to pat down my hair and straighten my wrinkled clothes instinctively. I don't want her thinking I'm this slob at home, "To be frank, I'm _very_ confused…umm, why are you here?"

She turns bashful, looking around our front porch before she meets my bewildered gaze, "Well, I wanted to give you time to cool down before I came. Your dad is being a git about this whole pregnancy thing and I wanted to come by and offer my support. Hermione, you're not my natural daughter, but I love you like you were my own and I'll be here for you through it all."

My mood swings from aggravated to flat out confused, and now I'm overwhelmed. With tears threatening to spill from my eyes, I grin and throw my arms around Anne, "Thank you so much, your support means a lot to me."

She hugs me for a second and pulls back because of my stomach, "Oh wow, you're showing, can I touch?" Eagerly, I nod and she puts her hand on my stomach, looking at me in awe and wonder, "Can you feel the baby move yet?"

"A few times," I beam as I gesture for her to follow me inside. After shutting the door behind her, Anne follows me to the kitchen and I start a pot of tea for the both of us, "It was this little whooshing sensation, the first was last week."

"That's so exciting!"

I find myself smiling more, "It is."

"Do you know what you're having yet?"

"No, but my friends are taking bets already. Barmy lot, they are."

Harry, Katie, Susan, Luna, Ginny, Blaise, and Ron think I'm having a boy and they're got all these reasons for thinking so. They say that it makes sense, boys pass on the family name and Malfoys are all about that, and they say boys are common in the Malfoy family and have been for hundreds of years.

Draco did confirm the last theory, saying that firstborn girls are less common.

Pansy is adamant in her belief that it's a girl simply because boys _are_ so common, but I think she just wants the baby to be a girl so she can make sure, _"she doesn't have her mummy's sense of fashion"_ Thanks Pans, real nice friend I have there. Nevertheless, the bet is as high as a 160 galleons. Anyone who wants to get in has to pay 20 galleons.

Anne laughs when I get up to prepare two cups of tea for us, "What do you think?"

I shrug pouring a bit of milk in hers and sugar, just how she likes it. I come back to the table with both our cups and sit down across from her, "I don't know…and I don't care as long as the baby is healthy."

Draco appears in the doorway to the kitchen, cold pizza box in his hands, clothes perfectly straight, and the flush from his cheeks is gone, "Who is it, Herm—" He stops dead when he sees a grinning Anne.

I stand, ready to introduce them to one another, but Anne's eyes widen as she exclaims, "Is he the father?"

"Yes, this is—"

She cuts me off, "Good Lord, Hermione, you have taste, he's handsome!"

A blush appears on my face, but it's Draco who speaks, approaching my side. He hands me the pizza box to put away and draws his hand to shake hers.

The confident and charming Draco comes out to play finally, "You must be Hermione's step-mother, Anne. My name is Draco Malfoy and it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is mine." Anne shakes his hand while I put the pizza away in the fridge and fix him a cup of tea the way he likes it, "And he's polite too, lovely." From the corner of my eye, I see Draco take the seat next to my abandoned, "I was just asking Hermione what she thought the sex of the baby was. What do you think?"

I sit the cup in front of him and sit next to him.

"It doesn't matter to me. I just want a healthy child."

I just smile.


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling owns everything.

Author's note: Thanks for all the reviews. I was going to wait until chapter 10 to reveal the sex of the baby, but I decided to tell it early. It took about a day to write this chapter out and after moving on to write a bit of chapter 10, I read it again and laughed hard, so I'm hoping you all have the same sense of humor I have. I found this chapter absolutely hilarious, which was exactly what I was going for. Anyway, happy Friday and happy reading! Read and review. Peace...until next time.

* * *

_Let the rain fall, I don't care, I'm yours and suddenly you're mine_

_Suddenly you're mine...and it's brighter than sunshine._

_Love will remain a mystery. Well, give me your hand and you will see_

_Your heart is keeping time with me._

"_Brighter Than Sunshine"—Aqualung_

_(Nearly a month later: November 6__th)_

Time can be a really dangerous thing for someone as neurotic as I am.

Really, it can be near fatal. The minutes tick by and I swear I can hear every damn sound the clock makes.

One hour.

I've been left to my own devices for one hour.

One long, dreadful empty hour.

I've been waiting for Draco to get out of his meeting.

I'm not a poet and the best thing I can come up with to describe how I feel is cliché and overdone. So, instead, I sigh.

The room I'm sitting in is stuffy and lined with polished, padded chairs, a bookshelf with all these classic books on it, a polished table with all these wizarding magazines, and other assorted decorations that spark some kind of life in this room.

I would've picked up a book to read while I wait, but I've literally read every book on the shelf. Seriously…some of them I've read more than once. I would've struck up a conversation with the secretary, but she's a mean bitch. I'm serious about that too.

She gave me the nastiest look when I walked in and told her that Hermione Granger was here to see Draco Malfoy and said in a rather snooty and rude voice, _"Mister Malfoy isn't in his office at the moment, you can have a seat until he gets here."_ And when I told her I usually just wait in his office, she snorted and replied in a nasty manner, _"You may be a part of the Golden Trio, but you don't get special treatment here. Just sit there like everyone else and wait."_

Yes, she's new. I think it's her second day.

But no matter…it still takes every ounce of sanity I have left and a few deep breaths they taught us in yoga yesterday to _not_ whip out my wand and remind her just why they call me the brains of the Golden Trio. It takes a little more not to reach across the desk and beat her arse the muggle way, which involved a bit of choking, an elbow to the teeth, and assorted wrestling moves Ginny and I learned from watching WWE Raw.

I just flash a fake smile and take a seat in the waiting area.

So I'm bouncing my foot now. The sounds of my agitated, tired, and achy feet are muffled by the off-white carpet that covers the floor, free of dirt. Soft music plays, elevator music, but the young, blonde secretary hums it like she really enjoys it.

Or maybe she enjoys tap-dancing on my nerves, which is currently what she's doing.

I crack my knuckles loudly, which makes her stop singing and look in my direction, speaking cheekily, "Oh, you're _still_ here?"

Muttering monotonously, "No, I'm a goddamn hologram."

She perks her ear up as if she didn't hear me correctly, "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

I paste a smile, "Oh, nothing…I'm still here."

"You may as well leave; these meetings typically last a long time."

"I know how these meetings work, I used to work here," I reply politely…or at least I _hope_ it's polite-sounding because I'm definitely _not_ in the polite mood, "and I'm more than okay with waiting."

"Well then," she turns her nose up and goes back to bobbing her head to the music.

Momentarily, I envision the sound she'll make when I break her nose.

I'm thinking a high pitched squeal, like a stuck pig…

Whoa, must calm down…must not kill…must—

There is a shiny black and chrome coffee-maker on a little table by the wall, surrounded by napkins, cream, sugar, straws, and Styrofoam cups. I don't drink caffeine anymore, only decaffeinated tea, but I'm sure it tastes like crap.

Office coffee here is always made by the secretary and from the looks of her, I'm sure she can't even boil water, much less figure out the correct charm that controls the coffee-maker.

I rest my hand on my stomach that's grown considerably in three weeks, trying to shift my thoughts in a happy direction and ignore the _"kill, kill, kill,"_ chant in my head…and it works, somewhat.

You see, today was the big day. The day I've been waiting for weeks to come. I just got back from the ultrasound and since Draco couldn't come because of this meeting, Anne went with me and cried tears of joy when we found out the sex of the baby.

I confess I got a bit teary-eyed, but it's more out of excitement and not fear anymore.

Shifting a bit in my chair, I groan a little, uncomfortable.

"How far along are you?" the secretary from hell tries to make conversation.

I'm confused. Why is she speaking to me? "Five months."

Pause.

Longer pause.

Even longer pause.

"You know, my friends and I think he's only with you because of the baby and that the baby might not even be his, but you're using it to trap him into marriage."

Forget the rest of what she said...marriage?

They think—did she say…

…what the fuck kind of conspiracy theory is _that_?

Oh, _hell_ no.

Draco and I aren't getting married anytime soon, baby or no baby. We've just gotten to the point where we're dating.

The thought of us getting married is laughable, which is exactly what I do, I start laughing, "Wow, that's _some_ theory there…but I have a spot of advice for you…" my laughing drops off quickly and I speak coldly, "don't discuss things you don't know about, it only make you look like an ignorant fool."

"You're just using him. He would never sleep with someone like you."

I glance at my nails, trying to contain my rage, tapping my foot rapidly against the soft carpet. Never, huh? Is that what people think? That Draco would never sleep with someone like me? Wow. We hid it really well, apparently.

Chuckling coldly, I shake my head slowly, "You should never say never." Briefly, I consider telling her that we've actually been sleeping together for the last three years and watch the look on her face, but I don't because I don't kiss and tell.

"You must've gotten him drunk or some—"

Snap.

Something in my head snaps and I cock my head in her direction, probably looking as possessed as I feel.

"If you say one more goddamn negative word about me, my relationship with Draco, or this baby, I will _snatch_ every blonde strand from your empty little blonde head! You don't know me, little girl, I will obliterate you to the point where no one will be able to recognize you. I know all sorts of spells and curses that'll have you wishing for death when I'm done with you. So try me, I fucking _dare_ you!"

Her face pales, "You wouldn't—"

"Oh, yes I would," I sneer threateningly, "Please believe that I would…but sadly I'm a nice person. You _obviously_ are very ignorant about what goes on in the pregnant mind and you _clearly_ don't understand the fact that I'm capable of murder in my state and it's quite _evident_ you don't grasp the concept that every pregnant woman has about a _zillion_ thoughts running through their heads at one time…most of my thoughts are chanting for me to massacre your stupid arse. But alas, I don't kill for ignorance, although I wish I could make an exception in your case because you are a stupid little bint, but I don't. Your life will be spared and I don't give many people second chances."

Wisely, she leaves me the hell alone and goes back to doing whatever the fuck she's doing.

Wisely, she stops humming to that awful music.

Wisely, she turns her chair away from me.

To calm myself, I put my hand on my stomach and enjoy the whooshing feeling, thinking back to the ultrasound earlier to ensure I don't go back on my word and kill her.

The baby may have been asleep during the first part of the ultrasound, but not now.

Merlin, the baby moves around constantly these days, it's still that little fluttering feeling, but just a bit stronger these days. Soon the baby will be outright kicking me, something I'm not particularly ready for.

Draco bought a stethoscope and at night after playing classical music we take turns listening to the baby's heartbeat.

It's still as moving as it was the first time we heard it.

The elevator makes a ding when it opens and automatically my eyes cut to see whose emerging and instead of locking with grey eyes, I find myself smiling at the sight of the suave Blaise Zabini.

He smiles back, but asks, baffled, "What the hell are you doing waiting out here?"

I point at the secretary crossly, "She made me."

Blaise rolls his eyes and approaches the secretary's desk.

She looks up and smiles at him almost seductively, "Good afternoon, Mr. Zabini, anything I can do for you?" she winks flirtatiously and I wonder if she does that to Draco.

I bet she does and I bet, knowing him, he ignores her…well, he _better_ ignore her because if I even have the inking that he's cheating, his head will be on a platter…seasoned, fried, and served medium rare with a side of potatoes, please believe _that_.

"Well, for starters," Blaise begins gruffly, ignoring her outright attempt at flirting, "If you ever see this woman," he gestures to me, "send her straight back to Malfoy's office. This is his girlfriend and if you hadn't noticed or saw with your own two eyes or read about in the Witch Weekly gossip column you cling to so desperately, she's pregnant with his child and doesn't need to sit in these stiff ass chairs."

After a bit of difficulty, I rise from my chair and approach the desk from the right, "Blaise, thanks for fighting for me, but I told her that about a hundred times and this bit—_ahem_," I cough to cover that up, "this _lady_ didn't listen."

The secretary gives me a mildly dirty look. Clearly she has recovered from my outburst, "Well, I've been instructed to make everyone wait out here for Mr. Malfoy and I'm not to make exceptions for_ anyone_," she looks at me pointedly.

If this were any other day, I'd whip out my wand and destroy this little nuisance, but today is a good day and I've decided to give her another chance and allow her to keep walking around with all her body parts attached.

"Well, I'm sure that if I let it slip that you made his pregnant girlfriend sit in the waiting area that he'd have your job in about a millisecond so don't be crass. Next time she comes to you, you let her through and you let her wait for him in his office. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes sir," she replies, a bit stunned and blushing furiously.

Blaise flashes a charming smile when he turns to me, extending his arm out to me, "Shall we then?"

I stick out my tongue at the secretary who looks offended as hell before linking arms with Blaise, smiling up at him nicely and he just shakes his head at me, "Yes, we shall." We're halfway to his office before I speak, "Is Draco out of his meeting yet?"

"Not yet, but soon. We're supposed to be going to lunch. Do you have to go back to St. Mungo's today?"

Shaking my head, "No, I worked all night, came home, took a nap and went with my step-mum to my doctor's appointment. I have the rest of the day off."

"Would you like to join us?"

"I'm supposed to meet Pansy for lunch."

"You know she can come too."

Smiling, "Okay, I'll call her and let her know about the change of plans…say, are you coming by my flat for dinner?"

"Now you know I don't miss out on any opportunity to get a home-cooked meal," Blaise flashes a charming smile.

"Good, because I found out the sex of the baby and I want everyone to be there when I tell them."

He looks a bit excited, "Are you going to tell Draco now or then?"

"Do you honestly think Draco Malfoy will let me wait until tonight to tell him?"

Blaise laughs at the thought.

"Exactly." I whip out my wand and mutter the unlocking charm that specifically opens his office door and Blaise, ever the gentleman, opens the door for me.

We sit on the couch and after I call Pansy, we start chatting about everything.

I like Blaise.

He's nothing like Draco, more outgoing and blunt and often I wonder just why they're friends.

They have nothing in common.

Watching them interact these past few months has been a surprise for me, seeing them crack jokes on each other is even more of a surprise and it's rather funny to watch Draco unwind around his best friend.

Not only is Blaise outspoken, he's loves to embarrass Draco and does it well by telling me more about Draco than he ever cared for me to know.

I've learned a lot about the enigma that is Draco Malfoy:

(1) Draco, despite his cool and solemn appearance, is a nervous wreck most of the time and his nervousness makes him a bit obsessive-compulsive and that's why he constantly straightens and messes with everything when things get tense.

(2) He doesn't like bugs, hates the sounds of scuffing shoes and drills, and hates nature.

(3) He gets sunburns easily and he uses a charm to prevent sunburns when he's outside too long.

(4) He'd rather spend his time with a select few on his birthday rather than have a party like the ones he's become famous for.

(5) The war turned Draco into an extremely private and reticent person.

(6) Lucius and Narcissa were decent parents to him even though they were bad people.

(7) His favorite color isn't black or green, its actually maroon.

(8) Draco likes cats, but hates snakes.

(9) As of last year, his only aspiration in life is to be a good father, if he ever got the opportunity to become one.

(10) I learned that he's been studying those baby books ever since I bought them and he's actually planning to start designing a wing of Malfoy Manor dedicated to our baby.

Most of this information, Draco eventually comes to tell me on his own, but I'll be honest, it's nice to know that beneath his hard exterior is just an ordinary man—

The door opens and in walks Draco, looking a bit peeved. That is, until he sees me sitting next to his best friend.

A bit of a smirk appears on his face and he approaches us, dropping a quick kiss on my lips and shoves Blaise in the arm roughly when he teases him with a cackle and a, _"Aww, is Malfoy getting a bit soft now that he's going to be a father?"_

Draco may not admit it, but I really think he is starting to soften a bit.

Everyone has started to notice, especially me.

He smirks more, he talks more, he cracks jokes, and he relaxes around everyone when we're all together, and he even went to a Quidditch match with Harry and Ron …and I wasn't there. When he told me, I pretended to pass out from the shock and he just glared and said he didn't have _that_ bad of a time…which means he had fun. Draco went to his first Weasley brunch two weeks ago when I announced my pregnancy to them before Parvati announced it in her gossip column the next day and I watched him chat and set off Weasley fireworks with George and play a friendly match of Quidditch with Ginny, George, and Ron…

"How long have you been here?" Draco asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I check my watch before I answer, "About an hour and a half."

"Yeah, I had to rescue her from the waiting area." Blaise comments offhandedly

Draco's eyes blaze, "You were sitting in the waiting area?"

"Your secretary is apparently not a fan of—"

Oh, he's downright livid now. His knuckles pop when he balls his hands into a fist, "I _specifically_ told her that if she sees you, let you wait for me in my office."

Blaise and I exchange confused looks, "Well that's not what she told us."

Without another word, Draco turns and walks across the massive office to his desk and pushes the button on the speaker. A female voice speaks up, "Yes Mr. Malfoy."

"Kerry, I just want to let you know that you're fired."

"B-but—"

"You specifically disobeyed instructions and I won't tolerate that from my employees. This matter is final."

And he releases the button, buzzes another person to let them know that they're getting a promotion if they find and train someone to do their job before the end of the day.

My mouth hangs open in amazement.

Blaise clears his throat a full minute later, "Well," he claps his hands, "I'll be outside, waiting. Pansy and Hermione are coming with us to lunch, but apparently, Hermione has some news to tell you that I unfortunately have to wait until tonight to hear." He gives me a smile and walks out the office, letting the door click shut behind him.

Draco takes his spot on the couch next to me, looking a bit eager but still like himself, with his arm resting on the soft arm of the couch. I get up and make myself comfortable on his lap, his arm moves from its spot and wraps around my lower back. His other hand rests on my thigh as my head rests against the crook of his neck. We're curled up together and it's more comfortable than anything I've ever experienced.

We sit in one of our comfortable silences before I ask, "How was your meeting?"

"Not bad," he sighs, "just long. How was the appointment?"

I sit up and look at him, "Pretty good. Anne really helped me out. Guess you must've told her about my obsession with skittles when I have to wait."

A soft chuckle escapes his lips, "Yeah, I did…did you find out the sex of the baby?"

I smile brightly and nod.

"Well?" he asks a bit impatiently.

Flashing a coy smile, "Draco, what are your feelings on blue?"

Oh he's confused alright. His brows furrow, "Blue?"

"Yeah, you see I have to start working on the nursery for my flat now that I know the sex and well, I need your input. What are your feelings on blue walls? Not like a dark blue, but a baby blue."

After a quiet moment, he replies, "Well blue isn't my favorite color, but I guess it's one of those cliché colors for boys… I didn't have blue walls in my nursery."

"I did. Mum and dad thought I was a boy for a few months there."

He fires a weird look, "Umm…_okay_, but what the bloody hell does this have to do with anything? Are we having a boy?"

"Oh," I smile and continue after a short pause, "the color of the walls has absolutely nothing to do with anything, we're definitely having a girl."

For the first time in…well, _ever_, I see his face break out into a smile.

A smile.

Holy shit.

_A smile._

Draco Malfoy is smiling, he's capable of smiling!

His hand rests on my protruding stomach and he smiles at me, face glowing with pride, "A girl? We're having a girl?"

Grinning back, I feel that whooshing feeling again and it's so strong it makes me feel a bit dizzy, "Yep, she's moving around right now." I reach into my pocket and pull out a few ultrasound pictures and show them to him one at a time, beaming with pride, "This is of her hand. I wish this was a moving photograph, but her hand was moving, opening and closing like she was saying hi, it was amazing," Smiling humorously at the memory, I move on to the next one, "This is of her. It was taken at the beginning of the ultrasound and she's sleeping. I think she woke up soon after this though." I flip to the last sonogram, "and this is another one of her, we could see her mouth moving and everything."

He stares at the pictures for what feels like hours, but it's only about ten minutes before he mutters, "I can't believe I missed it."

"Well, don't fret, I have set up another appointment with the radiologist when I hit six months and we'll make sure you're there. She'll probably start sucking her thumb by then."

Momentarily, his eyes light up, "Everyone's going to be pissed…except Pansy."

Truer words have never been spoken. I find myself smiling harder.

Draco pockets the pictures and hugs me quickly before sweeping me into a deep kiss that makes me feel light-headed as hell. I feel drunk as the kiss continues; my eyes flutter shut, sighs come from deep within me, and body relaxes in his embrace as his lips move in perfect rhythm against mine.

I can't help but be happy right now; everything has been good between us (only with limited amount of fighting), in four months we're going to be the proud parents of a baby girl, and I couldn't be happier with things if I planned them this way.

A few minutes later, I pull back, dropping a light kiss on his lips before leaning back. "As much as I love it when you snog me senseless, your daughter and I are hungry and Blaise is waiting to go to lunch…we'll pick back up with this later."

* * *

_Hey miss murder can I _

_Make beauty stay if I take my life? Whoa, oh, oh. _

_With just one look they shook and heavens bowed before him_

_Simply a look can break your heart _

_"Miss Murder"—AFI_

_(Later on that evening)_

I can't wait until after dinner like I planned.

And as soon as everyone finds their seats in our living room, with Draco's hand in mine, I announce, "Well I found out the sex and…Pansy wins, it's a girl!"

Amongst all the groans from the losers, I see Pansy jump out her seat, pumping her fist in the air, "I'm rich—" she exclaims, pauses, and adds, "_er._" She does a happy dance around the room, bragging in the faces of all the losers.

Ron rolls his eyes. Harry shakes his head, humored. Luna just smiles. Ginny and Draco are chuckling at the sight. Blaise is probably the most distraught over his lost money, but he's a sore loser anyway.

Pansy throws her hands up, singing, _"I've paid my dues, time after time. I've done my sentence, but committed no crime."_

"Would you stop that?" Harry asks once he begins to realize what she's beginning to sing.

I realize it too and shake my head. That damn Pansy is a trip.

The rest of them are confused.

Of course, Pansy ignores him, _"And bad mistakes, I've made a few. I've had my share of sand kicked in my face, but I've come through," _and her voice begins to rise.

"Really, come on, you don't have to make up a song to sing your victory." Ron says with bitter tones.

"It's not a made up song," Harry informs.

"What the—"

Pansy's voice gets louder as she belts out improvised lines, _"I am the champion, my friends. And I'll keep on kicking your arses…'til the end."_

"Oh come on!" Blaise and Ginny harp with slight annoyance.

I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.

"_I am the champion. I am the champion. No time for you bloody losers, 'cause I am the champion…of the world!" _she finally stops and looks around the room at their sullen faces before speaking in an innocent manner, "What? I like that song. It's very fitting in this situation."

Holds back a groan, Harry holds out the bag of galleons to her, "You made up _half_ the words...I think we got it. You won. Fair and square."

She snatches the bag, squealing happily as she jumps up and down, "Thank you very much, this will buy these new robes I saw in Diagon Alley…and those designer shoes too. Oh, I can't wait!"

Ginny rolls her eyes and gets up, starting the congratulations and the chatter about how excited they are.

Soon after, we have a great dinner and chat about everything over chicken, vegetables, rice, and half a peanut butter sandwich for me. Everything is calm and happy, even Harry and Ginny seem to loosen up around one another. She actually acknowledges his existence…sort of.

We're talking about life at Hogwarts again and I find myself laughing at everyone's memories.

Ron shakes his head and smirks, "Hermione, you never scared me more than that day you set those yellow canaries on me. It was worse than the night we went looking for the stone and you put Neville in the body-bind, or when you punched Malfoy, or you cooked up polyjuice potion and turned yourself into a cat, or when—"

I cut him off, "I get the point, Ron."

"Holy shit," Blaise looks astonished, "I knew about the punching, but damn Granger, you did all that?"

"And then some. Marietta's sneak pimples, blasting a hole in the Lovegood's floor when we were trying to get away from the death eaters—"

Harry cuts Ron off quickly, "And don't forget the stinging hex. I know I won't. That shit hurt."

"Can we please talk about someone else?" I ask modestly.

"Okay," Harry takes a deep breath and stands up. He looks like he's about to throw up when he speaks, "Let's talk about this…I want you, Ginny."

Everything falls silent.

The redhead pales, stammering, "W-w-what?"

"I don't want anyone else, only you. I hate the thought of you dating other blokes. I was stupid and wrong and I don't even know why I questioned my love for you…and I know this isn't the right time or place, but if I wait any longer to do this, I'll bust…so if you'll have me, I want to be your husband. Will you marry me?"

A smile spreads across my face. About damn time.

Ginny looks like she's about to faint for a moment before snapping out of it, "Well it's about bloody time! Of course, I will!"

Everyone busts out laughing.

Harry gets up and walks around the table, gets down on one knee and puts the ring on her finger. He then picks her up and swings her around in a hug before kissing her. We all cheer and clap. It's really about time they got it together.

Guess there won't be anymore Riverdancing on his glasses…well, maybe not. You never know with these two.

After a few moments, Ginny breaks the kiss and hits him in the chest, speaking very sadistically, "Take a break from me again and I will do what Voldemort couldn't and obliterate you from the face of the Earth. Don't think I'm not kidding either."

Harry pales and everyone bursts into fits of laughter.

Smiling happily, Ginny kisses him again and goes back to her seat, showing me and Pansy her ring. It's a beautiful and large, but not too large, red ruby stone set into a gold band. It looks perfect on her finger and is probably goblin-made. Harry went all out on her ring and I'm glad she loves it. Harry is too, the look of relief on his face is evident when he sits down. Ron pats him on the shoulder, a sign that he's done good.

I just smile.

After dinner, Harry leaves because he has to be at the ministry really early and we all convene in the living room.

We've been talking about Ginny's engagement, the girls have been swooning, and Blaise and Ron has been laughing at how nervous Harry looked. Draco and I find ourselves on the loveseat, hands entwined, talking to an overly excited Ginny who won't stop staring at her ring, a dazed Luna, Pansy who is staring at Ginny's ring in awe, and a humored Blaise. Ron gets up and goes to the kitchen.

"Do you guys have a name picked out yet?" Luna asks with a smile.

"Well," Draco begins, "Most of the women in my family are named after constellations."

My eyebrow rises at that tidbit of information, "Oh, and look at how well _they_ all turned out…looks like we'll be _avoiding_ the constellations, thank you very much."

Everyone nearly dies laughing, Draco even cracks a smirk and I kiss his cheek before getting up to go to the bathroom.

When I return, everyone is sitting around talking about Quidditch. Draco is leaning forward, listening to the friendly banter between Ginny and Blaise. Pansy is picking her nails, disinterested in this conversation, which is why I love her so much. She's about as interested in Quidditch as I am. Luna is staring with a dreamy smile on her face.

And Ron is…not here.

"Hey, where's Ron?" I ask curiously, walking back into the living room, standing behind the loveseat, hands quickly massaging Draco's shoulders lovingly.

Draco: "Don't know."

Blaise: "Haven't seen him for a while."

Pansy: "Probably raiding the fridge."

Ginny: "He _better not_ raid our fridge."

Luna: "Gee…"

They all speak at once, but they're pointing to the kitchen.

Curiously, I head in the direction of the kitchen with Ginny right behind me.

I expect to find him getting an early start to the cake I made for the dessert I'm about to serve in a few minutes, but about twenty feet from the kitchen, I find myself following the scent of peanut butter until I see him.

There he is, standing in the middle of the kitchen, indulging himself with…

My blood pressure shoots up like a missile into space and I fucking see _red_.

"You_ son-_of-a-_bitch!_" I roar at him from between clenched teeth, slamming my fist into the wall. The chant is on in my head, _"kill, kill, kill,"_ and I think I may just listen this time. I feel that something inside my head snap hard, it fucking _shatters_. Everything culminates in my head in a sort of rage I can't and don't want to control.

This is it.

The end of Ronald Weasley.

Hope he's said goodbye to everyone he loves.

Ron's head jerks up at the sound of my voice, "Oh, shit!" He screeches and makes a dash out the other door, leading to the dining room, clutching the remainder of the Baby Ruth Draco bought me earlier.

I carefully tucked into the refrigerator to freeze up for myself to have as a late night snack tonight and this little bitch is _eating_ it, like it's good, like he's a starving child, like he _didn't_ just eat an hour ago. Ron probably found it while raiding the fridge and figured he hit pay dirt. Yeah, well he hit something alright…

"Oh shit is right! Give it up, Weasley!" I shout as I stalk after him, seething with this monstrous rage.

Desperately, he runs into the living room where everyone is now on their feet. He tries to leap over the back of the couch to get to the exit, but Blaise and Draco block his attempt.

"Traitors, all of you!" he shouts, "I thought we were friends! I thought there was loyalty!"

"I'm not a bloody Gryffindor! Loyalty means nothing to me." Blaise laughs.

Draco and Pansy agree with a nod.

Quickly, Ron jams the rest in his pocket while everyone, including Draco, collectively howls with hysterical laughter.

"You're dead where you stand, Ron." Ginny says, laughing.

Fuck the laughter. Fuck everything.

I'm going to murder Ronald Weasley and there's nothing anyone can do about it. I whip out my wand and point it, screaming, "_Impedimenta!_" The spell is badly aimed and whizzes by Ron's head. So I pick up a spare trash can as an afterthought.

"Oh, my—shit! Ron, duck!" Pansy shouts.

Instead of throwing it, I hold it one hand and pounce, quickly running up on him, surprising him using guerilla tactics.

"Spit it out, you git!" I seethe through clenched teeth as I grab the back of Ron's neck and shove his face into the can.

"Hmmphlk," is all he says before I swipe his ankles sharply with my shoe and he drops to his knees, "Fuhdfmk!"

Laughter ensues all around us.

"Eat my goddamn candy, huh? You little git! Does it taste good _now_? Was it worth your _life_?" I shake his neck in frustration until I hear a plop from the bottom of the trash. I shove his face in harder, "There was a whole fucking cake in there and some cookies I made, but _no_, you just _had_ to be a fucking little piggy and eat my delicious chocolate-covered peanut and nougat Baby Ruth candy bar!" I rage at him, voice breaking.

Despite everyone's laughter, I really could cry right now, on the spot.

My mouth has been watering since this afternoon for that candy bar.

I was going to have it. It was going to be mine, but no, stupid arse over here had to eat it. I karate chop him in the back of the head, fully content with taking out my rage on one of my best friends.

Ron continues to bend over the trash can and spit out the last of the peanuts. One quick hit to the back of the head helps him empty his mouth.

By now, Ron is laughing and gasping for breath all at the same time…and now, I'm struggling to stay angry.

This is just too ridiculous.

Draco is holding his sides, painfully laughing…and just the sight of him laughing almost makes me stop in confusion, but I'm still past the point of being able to control myself. Blaise is cracking up too. Pansy and Luna are leaning on each other, weak from laughter and Ginny is wiping tears from her eyes as she cackles uncontrollably.

"I swear I didn't know it was yours, Hermione." Ron croaks as he stands up straight.

"It doesn't matter!" I shout, half-angry as I toss the can aside, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him down to my height, "Touch any other peanut product in that kitchen that's and I swear on Merlin's old crusty beard that the Golden Trio will be one short. Now get your arse out of my sight before I hex the hell out of you."

* * *

_Close your eyes and I will be swimming,_

_Lullabies fill your room and I will be singing_

_Singing to only you, don't forget ill hold your head_

_Watch the night sky fading red, but as you sleep, and no one is listening_

_I will lift you off your feet; I'll keep you from sinking_

"_As You Sleep"—Something Corporate_

_(Two hours later)_

A quiet, warm bubble bath is exactly what the doctor ordered…okay, Draco did once he pulled himself together.

It's exactly what I need to make me feel alright and after everyone leaves I indulge myself and emerge feeling a little more like myself. Now I'm ready to start my night routine.

Wrapped in my terrycloth robe, I surface from the bathroom and sit on my bed. I take time to lotion down, stopping to put coca butter on my belly. I read in one of the baby books that coca butter is key to reducing the amount of stretch marks and the earlier I start using it, the more effective it is.

Ten minutes later and I'm dressed and ready for bed, ready to settle down for fifteen minutes of playing classical music to my baby girl when there's a knock at my door.

Absently, I answer, "Come in." I settle the headphones on either side of my stomach and glance up to see Draco standing in the doorway, jacket off.

I flash a quick smile when he says, "Well you look all ready for bed."

"Yeah, I am." I turn on the music and relax back against the headboard. "Are you leaving?"

He cracks his knuckles nervously and sits on the bed with me, "I can leave if you want me to…but I want to stay."

"And that's good…because I want you to stay too."

Draco leans close and kisses me. His lips are sweet and his kiss is too. And I begin to feel it, I feel myself falling into him and wanting to melt into the shadows with him. I feel it and I let it wash over me, it and those sweet kisses. He lifts his head before we get too carried away, strokes my face as he looks me in the eyes. I feel myself get hot all over, blushing under his intense gaze.

"I'll be right back," his voice is low and before I can say anything, much less nod, he goes into one of my drawers and pulls out a pair of grey sleeping pants he left last time and goes into the bathroom to change.

I fan myself and when I glance at the watch, I realize fifteen minutes has gone by and I turn off the music and put the headphones away in the nightstand. I'm tucked under the covers when he comes out the bathroom and slides under the covers next to me. Resting my head on his shoulder, I relax in his arms.

I should confess I sleep better when he's beside me.

But I'm not.

I'm not going to tell him that it's hard to get a decent night's sleep when he's not near me. At least not since the night Anne came over the first time. It was late by the time she left and Ginny wasn't home yet so he spent the night and I haven't slept the same since. Just one night changed everything.

When he stays, I sleep perfectly when he sleeps.

Perversely, it works both ways.

If Draco is awake, I'm awake. It's like my mind doesn't want to miss a moment of him.

No, I'm not going to tell him that either.

Things are going too well to complicate things further.

"Oh," he says suddenly, "I got something for you."

A bright smile smears across my face when he pulls a Baby Ruth from the pocket of his pants and hands it to me. I can't even believe this. I throw my arms around him in excitement, hugging him close, laughing, "I can't believe you went back out and got it. And it's a king size too! You really shouldn't have!"

He chuckles, "After you ranted for ten minutes about chocolate-covered peanut and nougat goodness, I felt I had to."

I sit up like a little kid on Christmas morning, bouncing happily on the bed. I tear open the wrapper and slowly take a heavenly bite. Oh my goodness, this is better than I ever imagined. Chocolate-covered peanut and nougat goodness in every bite or whatever the slogan is for Baby Ruth. I don't care. This is fucking amazing. I keep taking slow bites. I'm almost sad when it's finished.

Crumpling the wrapper, I toss it in the trash and look over at Draco, who looks humored.

"That good, huh?" he asks, trying not to smirk.

"Smart arse…but yes, it was." I smile, shoving his lightly in the chest before turning off the light, turning my back to Draco, and resting my head on the fluffy pillow. Draco takes his familiar spot, his body molds against mine and when he places his hand on my stomach, I feel that strong whooshing sensation that lets me know our daughter is on the move.

Our daughter…this is incredible.

"It's been a good day, for the most part," I whisper.

"It has," he replies softly.

Draco slowly starts stroking my hair with his free hand, tentatively at first. I realize all his first touches are tentative, like he's unsure if I want his hands on me. I always used to think the hesitation was because he was unsure if he really wanted me. But I'm realizing now I've never been more wrong about a person than I am with him.

When I sigh, he takes it as permission and his touch becomes more confident. The strands of my hair are going every way and he tries to make them lay smooth, but he should know better. My hair is nothing like his. Draco's hair is always smooth and glossy and he doesn't need a charm to keep it like that, unlike my hair.

It still doesn't seem real to have him here, touching me, lying in bed with me, just lying here, and not doing anything else. But here he is, his slightly clumsy and shaking fingers make more of a mess with my hair than before and me not saying a word, simply enjoying the whooshing sensation. It all starts to lull me to sleep.

"Hermione?"

"I'm awake," I tell him, but I don't open my eyes. I cover the hand on my belly and twine my fingers with his. Draco doesn't do anything except lay here and let me hold his hand. I get the feeling that I can do this for as long as I want.

Sarcastic snort, "Barely."

"True."

"You should get some sleep," he states almost in a whisper.

I want him to continue what he's doing, even now, as I doze.

His fingers are making disjointed patterns in my hair. It feels great.

Innocent and perfect.

Sleep is sensible, though. I think it may be a good idea to try it.


	11. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling does.

Author's Note: I'm glad you all loved the scene with Ron. I was cracking up when I was writing it, I was going to just have her curse him out, but it didn't happen that way. I just finished chapter 11 and after editing the mess out of it, it's a bit fluffy and I love it, so I'm posting 10, ahead of schedule. I've planned out the next couple of chapters and I'm trying to decide whether the birth scene will be ridiculous or sweet...or maybe both. Decisions, decisions. Oh, well, enjoy this chapter. Read and Review. Happy reading! Peace.

* * *

_It's not what it seems, not what you mean_

_No, I must dreaming, it's only in my mind_

_Not real life, no I must be dreaming_

"_Bleed (I Must Be Dreaming)"—Evanescence _

_(Almost three weeks later: November 28__th)_

There are days when I know that the day I'm about to face is going to be long…and today is one of them.

I mean, I don't have any empirical evidence to back this argument, it's just a little feeling I get and I've never been wrong about it.

So I'm ready for this phone call, well, not really ready, because I was asleep, or trying to at least, but I mutter a greeting into my cell phone anyway, after the third ring, "Hello?" I glance at the clock.

Damn, it's not even eight in the morning.

"Hey, I had the weirdest dream about your baby girl last night," Pansy begins in a rush. I sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes as she goes off the deep end yet again, "She had an extra arm."

I stare at the phone for a moment before putting it back to my ear, "You what?" I inquire, but cut her off with a short sigh, "Look, Pans, I haven't gotten enough sleep and have nowhere near enough energy to warrant this conversation."

That does not deter her one bit, "How much sleep can justify a talk like this?"

I massage an aching shoulder while rubbing my belly, trying to placate my restless daughter. She's been more active than usual and moving around all night and I haven't slept much because of it. Yawning, I reply, "Remember that story about Rip Van Winkle?"

Short pause, "…you mean that bloke that slept twenty-years of his life away…what does that—"

"That's exactly how much sleep I need to justify this conversation."

Pansy sighs dramatically, "Can I _help_ it if your baby had an extra arm? What could that mean?"

I shrug, but quickly realize she's not here to see it. I shake my head at myself and once the baby manages to stop moving around, I find the strength to answer her, "Pans, I don't know…owl professor Trelawney; this is right up her psychotic little alley." I offer.

It's too early to do anything except placate Pansy Parkinson.

"Oh, now that's just ridiculous," she scoffs, "I'm not about to owl her over a dream."

Curiously, "But you'll wake me about it?"

She giggles, "What else are best friends for?"

I smirk and rub my aching back as best as I can, "True. I need a massage."

"Get Draco to do it, I'm sure he's right there in bed with you." She says rather coyly.

Rolling my eyes at her implications, "_Actually_, he's in France, left yesterday, some merger plan with a French magical lending company, I think he's buying them out, I don't know. I got stuck at the hospital with a critical patient. I didn't get a chance to see him off." I know I sound about as irritated as I feel, but he did call last night to check on me.

Yes, you read that correctly.

He called.

On his _new_ cell phone…believe me; I was stunned when he told me he got one. Too bad he has no clue how to use it. He actually shouted for three minutes when he called and I had to tell him that I could hear him if he spoke in his regular voice before his shouting rendered me deaf.

After we cleared that up, the conversation was pretty good. Talked about an hour about our days, I apologized for getting stuck and not seeing him off and he said it was okay. He asked me if his assistant didn't forget to deliver the cookie and I told him no—

"Oh, that little git didn't tell me he was going to France."

"Because you'd make a list of stuff you want him to buy while he's down there…and you know as well as I do that Draco isn't the type to take orders like a common house elf."

Pansy starts laughing, "So true…but anyway, back to this dream."

I groan.

She whines, "Oh come on, this is normal."

Normal? Pansy knows nothing about normal.

"Really? I didn't know that sharing dreams involving my daughter having an extra arm was so normal. Forgive my ignorance. You rock. I suck."

She laughs at that, "Well, are you and Draco planning to—"

"Don't finish that question. I don't want my baby to have an extra arm. This is your fucked-up dream, not mine."

"I mean it could be handy…maybe she'll get two wands and then she would be a force to be reckoned with."

Groaning again, "Pans…not enough sleep yet." I get out of bed and walk into the bathroom slowly, "I'm about to take a bath and I'll see you at work. Oh, and stop eating sweets so close to bedtime."

Pansy gasps, "How did you know that? I swear you know everything!"

I smile and shake my head, speaking in an informative voice, "Come on, Pans, an extra arm? You know you get nightmares when you eat sweets so close to bed."

"Fair enough, see you at work!"

* * *

_And I would have stayed up with you all night_

_Had I known how to save a life._

"_How to Save A Life"—The Fray_

_(Two hours later)_

I'm late for work.

I'm never late. And right now I'm extremely late.

Pansy tries to frantically flag me down, calling my name and everything, but I ignore her and run…okay, walk really fast, past her, without even taking a single glance at her. I'm late. There isn't time to chat. I'm late.

Using my hip, I bump open the swinging door as I juggle my purse, attempt to put on my name-tag, and find my wand all at the same time. You know…I'm doing all the things I should've done before I got here. One thing I'm a master at is multi-tasking. I have it down to a science which is why I'm a good healer.

Sometimes I juggle six or seven patients at once—what the hell?

I look up and all I hear are moans and groans, crying and healers yelling orders and spells.

Oh, no.

I've walked into a war zone.

Another healer looks up just as I come in, she sounds distressed and she doesn't even work in this department. They must've called her down, which is never a good thing, "Oh, thank Merlin you're here! Grab a chart and welcome to hell, we're being inundated."

Stunned by the sight of the normally quiet department, I ask in a weak voice, "What's going on?"

"Hermione!" Pansy bursts through the swinging doors, out of breath.

I nearly jump out my skin and I spin around ready to tell her not to ever scare me like that again, but I freeze when I see her.

She's been crying. Pansy _never_ cries and I realize that whatever is going on, it's worse than I could ever imagine. Black mascara tears run down her flushed cheeks and she's shaking hard. I pull her back out the double doors and ask in a concerned voice, "What wrong, Pans?"

Her voice is broken when she speaks, "I-I-I was trying to tell y-you what happened," she cries, grasping my shoulders tightly, "A-a-a couple of rouge b-bludgers got loose at an open Quidditch practice and in-injured most of the team and the s-spectators before they got it under control. They say they were tampered with." She stammers frantically.

Panic rises in my chest and my mind swims with all kind of impulses, "Oh my god, what team?"

She breaks down in tears, helplessly, "Ron's team. I only saw them when they brought him in. H-he tried to stop it, they said. He looked bad. He was unconscious. T-they wouldn't let me in to see him. I don't know what's going on. They're only letting healers in. Did you not see all the reporters outside?"

"No, I apparated right in here," I answer breathlessly, trying to calm myself down. There is a secretary from another department coming down because the hospital has gone into crisis mode and I stop her, "Do me a favor and take my bag and keep it safe. I'll get it later. Can you take the front desk for a while?"

She nods wordlessly and takes my bag and everything else. I watch as she sits down at Pansy's desk.

I grasp Pansy's shoulders, "We're going to be calm okay?"

Nods weakly, she wipes her tears, "Okay," she says in a stronger voice.

"Come on." I take her by the hand, hold my wand in my other hand and push open the double doors, back into chaos.

The next fifteen minutes are total hell, but I'm in a zone. Pansy just waits in an anxious silence, trying to blend in. Every new curtain I swing back, I'm looking for Ron, but I never see him. Instead, I have to help the ones I do see.

Repair a broken arm. Heal a broken leg. Put back together a shattered foot. Lots of blood…so much blood that the front of my robes are covered in it. Potions are being dispensed at ludicrous rates and healing spells are flying all around. Pansy looks horrified by everything she's seen and in between patients, I have to calm her down because she's about to have a nervous breakdown…I am too, but as long as I keep her calm, I'll stay calm too.

We're hurrying to another curtain when someone jumps in the way, "Hey! She's not supposed to be back here."

My head shoots up to see another healer, I think his name is Grant, standing there, blocking my way, "She's with me."

"So," folds his arms authoritatively, "she's still not supposed to be back here."

My grip on Pansy's hand tightens and I shoot daggers at him, "Look, I said she's with me. Our friend is back here—"

"She doesn't get special treatment because she's your mate."

I shove him in the chest hard. He stumbles back a few steps, stunned, "Now listen to me and you listen to me good, you little prat. Stay out of my business. She is with _me_. She's not hurting anything or touching anyone, so I suggest that you step off. I'm not having a good day, I'm worried as hell about my best friend, and I don't need this, not from you, not from anyone. So you either move out my way or I'll force you out of my way, either way, _we're_ going and she's staying with me."

When he doesn't move, I point my wand.

"You wouldn't."

"Watch me. _Confundo_."

He has to block my Confundus charm with a quick protection charm and now that he sees I'm totally serious he wisely backs off and almost runs in the another direction.

I look over at Pansy who looks amazed, despite tear-streaked eyes.

"I didn't know you were such a bad ass."

"I'm full of surprises." I push open the curtain and thus, it continues.

The most serious patient I've seen is the seeker who fell about a hundred feet when a bludger hit his broom. Someone in the crowd managed to save him, but he's in some sort of coma from the trauma his body's been through. At least he's not dead. The lady I just fixed up was just an innocent bystander who got hit in the head.

I wipe my hands and leave her to rest. Looking at the other healer, "Make sure she gets a pain potion twice an hour and have her committed upstairs. I think she'll be fine." I grab Pansy's hand again and together we move along to the next patient.

Opening the curtain, I step in and see Ron laying there, pale, with three healers around him. He isn't moving and they're arguing about something I don't even hear about because I'm too focused on him.

Pansy gasps, "Oh, shit, Ron," which draws attention to us. I let go of her hand.

"She shouldn't be in here." One of them says.

"Well, she's with me. Ask Grant what I'll do to anyone who tries to get her to leave," I rush to his side while Pansy stands frozen where I left her. I touch his skin. He's cool to the touch and his breathing is very shallow. I look around for the chart and see it in one of the healer's hands. My eyes dart up to meet his, "What's wrong with him?"

"He took a bludger to the chest, broke like four ribs and his arm. We managed to repair all the damage, but he's not doing any better. We tried all the potions and spells we know, but he's fading."

"Then," I snap, "Obviously, there's something else wrong that you all missed."

I rest my hand on his chest and listen to him breathe, closing my eyes.

One of the healers in the room speaks and I glare at him, "Either shut up or leave."

I go back to what I'm going and they all decide to shut up. I listen for a few minutes, switching from side to side, trying to push Pansy's soft whimpering from my mind…

...and then I notice something.

"One of the broken ribs punctured his lung, I think."

The three of them rush to the bed, interest piqued. I point my wand at his chest and heal his lung the best way I know how. When the spell is complete, I stand back. We all do and everything is silent for thirty seconds before his breathing improves and ten minutes later, Ron opens his eyes, looking around confused.

He croaks hoarsely, "Where am I?"

Approaching his side once again, I rest my hand on his head, "St. Mungo's…you took a bludger to the chest."

Groans and tries to sit up but I stop him, "I remember that part. Hurts like hell…but what are you doing here?"

Smiles and kisses his head, "Saving your life…_again_."

Pansy pushes through everyone and practically launches herself at him, throwing her arms around him, "I thought you were dead!" Ron winces in pain and she jerks away as if she's afraid of breaking him, "Oh, sorry."

He smirks, "Its o—"

There is an eruption of loud commotion outside his curtain, glass breaking, clattering and shouting and cursing and all I hear is, _"Stay away from me!"_ and I know exactly who it is. Ron does too. He starts laughing. I grab my wand and rush out, throwing the curtain open only to see a spell flying from Ginny's wand and hitting Grant square in the chest.

Bat-Bogey hex.

He starts screaming as his bogies grow and turn into bats and chase him down the hall. I suppress my laughter, that's what he gets for being such a fucking git. The rest of security and the healers standing around look ready to take her down and she looks ready to battle them out until the end. I take the silent moment to break in and step in the way before anyone else gets hexed.

"Stop, all of you. She's with me. One of the patient is her brother. Ginny, come on, he's in here." I point in the direction of the curtain I just left from. I stare the rest of them down, "We're going to transfer Ronald Weasley upstairs. See to it that it happens and it happens soon. There are going to be a bunch of red-headed Weasley coming in, you all better let them through with no problems. If you think Ginny can wreak havoc, try crossing her mother."

After transferring Ron upstairs, everything starts to get better for me and the chaos seems to simmer down. Life goes back to some sense of normalcy and while on rounds, I peek in to check on Ron. The walls are made of glass on the floor he's on and I see Pansy and Ginny sitting at his bedside. Harry is shaking his head. Mrs. Weasley is fussing over him as usual, George and Percy are laughing, and Mr. Weasley is smiling.

They all look to be chatting very animated about the accident and Ron is reenacting it with his hands waving wildly…a smile comes to my face. All is good.

Maybe this day isn't going to be so bad after all.

* * *

_Pardon me while I burst into flames, _

_I've had enough of the world_

_And its people's mindless games_

_So pardon me while I burn…_

"_Pardon Me"—Incubus_

_(The next day: November 29__th)_

Pansy is still always late.

Shaking my head, I sip on my decaffeinated tea as my thoughts roam aimlessly, of course, my thoughts go right back to Draco. I've been feeling something different. It's nothing I want to admit to him. Lord knows whenever we actually decide to think about what we're feeling or how we're feeing towards one another, we screw it up beyond belief until we're so fucking confused and tired that all we really want to do is cry until our eyes swell shut, and we have no choice but to fall asleep and pray the next day is a little more uplifting and a little less confusing…

…okay, so maybe that's just me.

Don't get me wrong.

This has been amazing. Draco is an amazing man, more so than I ever knew before. He's been a dream even before we started dating and the dream has gotten better since.

We are not perfect. Merlin knows we fight and argue with the best of them. We are just two ordinary people trying to make a relationship work. We are growing together, learning together, making things work, existing together, and this whole experience just makes me realize something I should've realized a long time ago.

As the days go by, I can accept the fact that Draco is an integral part of me. He's strong. He's supportive. He's very passionate and very different than I originally thought. He's just as stubborn as they come. He's quiet, but I'm starting to realize he doesn't need words to express himself.

Draco Malfoy is a good man. He always has been.

And as I think of his significance in my life, tears form in my eyes.

I don't feel right when he's gone. I miss him—

"Is this seat taken?"

With tears hot in my eyes, I look up at the female voice and smile at the blonde-haired, blue eyed, smiling Daphne Greengrass, "No," I choke out, clearing my throat, "You can sit here. Pansy's late as always, you know that." I tack on a small laugh and wipe my eyes.

As she takes the seat across from me, Daphne looks at me, concerned, "Are you okay? You look like you've been crying."

"Oh," I wave off her concern, voice still thick with emotions, "I'm just hormonal," I lie, "Pregnancy will do that to you."

She seems to accept my excuse and flashes a confirmatory smile, "Yeah, I suppose, how are you taking it?"

I take a sip of tea to clear my throat, "Pretty well, actually. Everyone, for the most part, has been really supportive of me, Draco, and our baby."

"To be honest, I'm still getting over the shock of you two being together…and about to be parents. It's not surprising on Draco's part. I think he's always had a soft spot for you, even in school, even when it was wrong for him to. Blaise accused him of liking you in 5th year and Draco just sneered and walked away, but he never denied it."

My interest is piqued. _5__th__ year?_ What the hell? 5th year was the year of Umbridge. In 5th year, Draco Malfoy was just a nuisance on my radar. Other than doing a set of patrolling together when Ron and Pansy were busy with other things, we really didn't spend too much time alone together…

"The surprising part of this whole thing is _you_, actually," she continues, "I never thought that you, knowing what you know about the duties of the wives of purebloods, would actually decide to put yourself in a subordinate position."

My eyebrow rises on that, "Now, Daphne, first, we're not getting married. And second, I thought you knew me better than to think I'd be subordinate to Draco or I'd continue to date him if he did treat me as a subordinate. We are equals."

"Men and women are never equals."

"Why do you think that?"

"Think about it, Hermione. You were the only one who got punished the night you two slept together. He just moved on with his life and you got pregnant. Don't you think that's unfair?"

"Yes, but there's nothing I can do about it, it's nature," I reply honestly, "and to be honest, I had the opportunity to eliminate the results of that night, but I didn't take it. I'm happy that night happened. I would've never been this happy with things. I am, you know, really happy and satisfied with my life."

Daphne scoffs, "I would never let a man have control over my future."

"I wouldn't either. I control my own future and whether a man is present in it or not, that is my own decision. I made my own decision about this baby and about Draco. He didn't just come into my life and make all kinds of plans, tell me what I'm going to do, and lay down the law. No, in fact, we don't have a plan. We're just taking this one day at a time because neither of us knows what the hell to do." I confess in a rush of words, flushed.

She sits there and stares at me.

I take a breath and continue, "People who say that men control their lives _let_ men control their lives and they accuse them of controlling their lives because they don't want to blame who is really at fault…themselves. They haven't taken the initiative to control their own lives and that's sad. I am not one of those women. There will never be a day Draco Malfoy tells me what to do because he knows like I do, the day that happens…it's over. He can make suggestions, I'm totally open for them, but the day he _commands_…hell no."

She ponders over my words for a while, sipping on her own tea.

"You know, Daphne," I speak softly, "Its okay to want or need a companion. It doesn't make you less of a woman or a feminist. You and I, we're so similar. We fight for what we believe, but I'm not about to shut everyone out to prove that I believe in something. It's human nature for a person to want a companion, to want someone that understands you as well as they understand themselves…" and I leave it at that.

I leave it there for her to think about.

All is silent for a while and we sip on our drinks and enjoy the ambiance of the shop we're sitting in.

My eyes search outside the great window we're seated in front of for Pansy before they move down to my watch; she should be here in about five minutes.

"She's probably going to be later than usual today." Daphne informs.

"Why?"

"There's a lot going on in Diagon Alley today. I'm sure you heard how the minister was resigning next year…one of the people running for the position is a _woman_. Her name Aurora Kingston, she's a pureblood and was a Ravenclaw when she went to Hogwarts, the first in her family to be a Ravenclaw. Most of them were in Slytherin."

"I know who she is…she used to be the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I met her after the war; she was trying to get me to work for her at the ministry."

"Why didn't you?"

"I had just started working for Draco and I've never been interested in a job in the ministry."

"Wow, well, I'm trying to get a job helping with her campaign. She just gave a speech in Diagon Alley about an hour ago, it was most captivating."

"She really _is_ charismatic."

"There hasn't been a woman in the position in centuries—"

"And we _all_ know she _won't_ win," a familiar icy cold voice interrupts. Daphne and I look up at Theodore Nott. Her face covered in rage while mine is just covered with annoyance. I haven't seen him since he insulted me that day at Hogwarts and I think it's wise he's laid low since because I've been itching to wipe that look right off his face.

"Why don't you think that?" she challenges, voice simmering with anger. Nott takes the third chair for himself and I want nothing more than for him to get up and leave.

"It's well-known that women can't handle the position of minister of magic. Women will mess everything up—"

"No more than it already is." Daphne sneers back, "Women can do anything they want. Women are integral to the continuation of the species. Without them, you wouldn't be here to piss me off and for you to sit here and tell me, to my face, that you don't think a woman can handle the job as the minister of magic, is the most absurd and offending thing you've ever said. You are nothing but a pig-headed little git."

I couldn't agree more.

"Men are more political-minded…and besides, she hasn't even had war experience."

My eyes bulge at this and I shake my head, "What? Please stop talking, Nott. Your stupidity is taking up the air in this room. None of the men running against her have had war experience. Fudge didn't have it and people kissed his fat arse all the time and _you_ haven't had war experience either so just shut up about that. Let's put this in a hypothetical scenario and say I want to run."

"Okay." He nods.

"I'm a woman and I've had war experience. I've faced death eaters and dementors and werewolves and giants and I've even been up with Voldemort. I've saved Harry and Ron's arses on _plenty_ of occasions. Everyone says I'm the brightest witch of my age, I'm more qualified to be the minister of magic than any other man in the Wizarding world, and I'm a woman…and just because I'm a woman means I can't be an effective leader? Is that what you're saying?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying…that and the fact that you're a muggle-born."

I feel the anger rush through my veins at the total sexism he's displaying here, "Rubbish. My gender and my blood have nothing to do with my policies, my decision-making skills, or anything else—"

"Sure it does, women think with their emotions—"

"The hell I don't. I think with my brain, I use logic, observation, common sense, and reason. Ron and Harry make decisions with their emotions; they're always charging at anything before they really think about it. They think with their heart first and brain second and they're men, so don't you dare assume that."

"You are just one woman. Let's talk about the one who's running."

"I'm not sure what she uses to think with, but you could ask. You could even give her a shot, but no, you're just like every other close-minded wizard who opposes her: ignorant and afraid of change and I think you and anyone like you are just pathetic." My eyes catch Daphne's and I see she's impressed with my level of passion about this topic.

"What's pathetic is that you shout about women's right yet you allow the course of your life to be changed by having a _man's_ bastard b—"

_SLAP!_

Yes, that's the sound of the back of my hand connecting with his cheek in what is referred to as a bitch slap. I don't even remember reaching back, all I feel is my hand traveled at warp speed from under the table, grazing the top of my cup and connecting with his face.

The entire shop is rendered into a stiff quiet and Daphne looks stunned. The sheer force of my slap nearly makes Nott fall out of his chair and gives me such a rush.

I want to slap him again and again, over and over until there's nothing left of him, to the point where he's no longer human because to me, right now, he's not human. He's the worst scum on the face of the Earth and I want to make him feel as such. I've never felt such a rage at a person before, not at Draco, not at Ron, not at my dad, not at anyone.

It's not even rage…it's something I can't even describe.

I feel like my chest is exploding, everything just combines, everything, the Quidditch accident yesterday, missing the hell out of Draco, and now this display of such intense stupidity…all this just meshes into this explosion of emotions, rage being at the top of the list.

Daphne and Pansy, who apparently just walked in the shop the moment I hauled off and slapped him, have to stop me from hitting him again.

"Hermione! As much as I would love to kick his arse too, you can't do it here!" Pansy's voice brings me out of whatever the hell that was and I stare at her, dazed, "Daph, grab her purse for me, I'm going to walk her back to the hospital." She turns her attention to Nott, "And it would be wise if you left her alone, next time I_ won't_ stop her."

* * *

_This wall is glaring and it's too high for me to climb_

_I've ran and ran and now there's nothing left behind_

_I see a picture of a broken man inside_

_I've tried and tried and now there's nothing left to try_

_And I'll wait, for you, I'll wait for you._

"_Wait"—Mat Kearney_

_(Two days later: December 1__st)_

I've been sitting in my room all evening just thinking, which is still not a good thing.

I think about my grocery list and mentally add tangerines to the list, lots of tangerines: fresh tangerines, tangerines in a can, and tangerines in a glass container…yummy tangerines. I've been craving those quite a bit lately along with peanut butter and skittles (only when I'm waiting), tangerines and chicken. I spent some of the afternoon looking up recipes with those two ingredients in them and found a few I want to try out.

I think about the dirty dishes in the sink and how badly they need to be washed.

I think about Ginny, who is in Greece at a Quidditch match…the first one away from home.

I think about baby names. Draco and I are compiling a list of all the names we like and we're supposed to compare when he gets back.

I think about the good lunch with my step-mum. She's so happy about the thought of being a grandma and I'm just happy she's taking me to lunch and not trying to cook me lunch. I don't think the baby will appreciate her cooking.

And then I think about Draco and his significance in my life.

He's my rock, my tower of strength, my sanity, my best friend, my partner, my lifeline, my equal in every sense and definition of the word. He keeps me sane when all I want to do is go crazy. He gives me comfort when I need it. He is a fresh breath of air when I'm feeling faint.

After this baby, Draco is my…_everything_. He is a part of me. He is the nerve impulse that orders my muscles to contract. He is my left lung, expanding and contracting with each breath. He is a vertebra on my spine, protecting me and doing his job to keep me upright. He is the phalanges in my index finger. He is my entire heart.

And with him gone, even four hours away in France, a large part of me is missing and I feel, no, I _am_ incomplete.

I still miss him.

God, I miss him more than I thought possible.

I miss seeing him. I miss his scent, his touch, his kiss, his half-smirk when I say something funny or ridiculous or when I'm being completely loony, his—everything. I miss him sleeping next to me and even more, I miss waking up to him. I miss our lunches together before his afternoon meeting. I miss his peanut butter sandwiches; he knows exactly how much peanut butter to put on the bread so I don't choke.

I miss cuddling with him. I miss his crisp black suits and my crypt-keeper jokes. Even though they haven't stopped in his absence, I miss the peanut butter cookie he has sent to me via his assistant every afternoon at the end of my shift. I miss our dates. I miss holding his hand. I miss talking to him face-to-face. I miss sitting in front of the fireplace, waiting for him to step through.

I miss him so much I feel stupid for missing him. It's only been four days.

This is ridiculous behavior on my part.

I'm a rational woman, I really am. It doesn't make sense to miss someone like this. It just doesn't. It doesn't make sense to depend on someone like I sometimes depend on him. I swore I'd never depend on someone like that.

But I do.

And all of a sudden the truth hits me so hard I can barely contain myself.

My ringing cell phone breaks my moment of raw enlightenment. I don't even look at the caller-ID before flipping it open and answering with a choked, "Hello?"

There is some garbled noise, a slew of curse word, and a groan. I already know who it is and a humored smile breaks across my face when Draco's frustrated voice filters through, "Fucking muggle contraption…oh, shit this thing is on, umm…hello?"

"Hi," I bite back my laughter, getting out of bed and slipping into some grey pajama pants and into the comfy slippers Harry bought. They make me feel like I'm walking on a cloud. As I head for the kitchen, wand in hand, I chuckle at Draco who is still cursing at his phone, but seems to have calmed down a bit, "Still getting the hang of the cell phone, I see?"

"Not funny…I don't know why I bought this thing."

Muttering a quick cleaning spell aimed towards the dishes, I focus my attention on the man on the other end. "Maybe it's because you got tired of sending owls…" I offer hopefully in a small voice.

I_ wish_ he did buy a cell phone just to talk to me, but that doesn't seem like his style. Still, I want to be one of the ones who matter to him. I want to be and feel and know that I'm important to him. I hate that I need that type of validation. I'm not generally a needy person. I've never been this needy, but now, I need to know he cares.

There is a small pause before he admits with a sigh, "True, this way it's like talking face-to-face except not…did I wake you?"

"No," I sigh, but my heart is full and my voice is thick with the emotions that swell from his words, "Can't sleep…a restless baby and lot on my mind are two things keeping me awake." I start some tea with my wand. Maybe tea will ease me to sleep. Tea and maybe the sound of his voice, we'll see how that works.

Draco asks, "Restless baby?"

"Yeah, she's been moving around like crazy and she won't settle down for anything. I lay on the left, she doesn't like it. I move to the right, she moves around more...but I guess her being this restless is okay. My mind is all over the place, I probably wouldn't be able to sleep if she did settle down."

"What's on your mind?"

I'll be honest, I'm a bit stunned that he wants to know what's on my mind, but I'll tell him anyway because his voice sounds genuine and I want him to be genuine. He's walking. I hear the clicking sound his shoes make as he walks on hardwood floors. I want to ask him what he's doing, but I don't. I want to tell him I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep since he's been gone. I want to tell him everything.

But instead, I clam up, "I…" my breathing is heavy and I exhale like I'm releasing a ton of pressure, which is exactly how I feel. And then I proceed to gather enough of my courage to utter the next words softly, "I miss you."

Draco gets quiet for a while. I hear _nothing_…nothing at all.

I begin to think the connection might've been cut or he's totally turned-off by my confession and he wants nothing to do with this needy pregnant girl. I'm always so scared of scaring him off, but I realize in this moment that he never runs and if he leaves, he always comes back.

I'm about to see if he's still on the phone when he finally speaks in an equally as soft voice, "You do?"

A nervous sigh escapes my lips along with my confession, "Yes, I do…" I trail off for a moment, heart racing. I get up to pour hot water into the mug and even a bit of honey. It's not until I'm settled at the dining room table when I ask, trying to shield my anxiety, "Do you…do you miss me?"

Silence.

"...yes."

Relief floods through me. I think my heart is going to beat its way out of my chest. He misses me.

He_ really_ misses me.

More confident, "Well, how is everything going down there? And when are you coming back?"

"Everything's going okay. Just boring meetings, schmoozing, and lots of Quidditch talk. I'll be back in two days…I'd ask how everything was up there, but Pansy told me you slapped Nott two days ago."

"That blabbermouth…" I mutter to myself, "Yeah, I did. He made me mad."

Chuckles lightly, "I'm sure he did…I wish I was there to see it. Heard it was memorable. She said you looked sort of possessed."

Mumbles, "I_ felt_ possessed."

More chuckles, "So, what are you doing?"

"I'm having a cup of tea in my dining room. I finished my list of names earlier. Did you finish yours?"

"Yes, just before I called…hey, let me call you right back."

With a raised eyebrow, I end the call a few moments later and sit, drinking my tea. When I finish, I sit there for a minute, trying not to such a desperate loser by staring at the phone. A minute passes. I drum my fingers on the table. Two minutes pass. I sigh with frustration. Three minutes pass. I snatch up my mug of tea and walk into the kitchen, a bit irritated. I don't even know why.

Maybe I'm just in a sour mood, but when someone says they'll call you back, it does mean that they will call you back. It could've been one of those "say you'll do it but not mean it" things like I used to do when I'd tell Anne I'd take out the garbage after I finish the next chapter. Draco sure didn't waste any time getting off the phone with me.

He's probably in France, dining with a gorgeous blonde, forgetting all about his pregnant, fat girlfriend.

"Now you're just feeling sorry for yourself," I sigh, annoyed with my self-pitying thoughts, "Nobody likes a—"

A voice interrupts suddenly, "Why are you talking to yourself?"

I scream, drop my mug, and nearly leap a foot off the ground when I hear his voice. The mug shatters on impact and with my hand clutching my racing heart, I spin around and there is Draco, standing in the entrance to the kitchen, in one of his many crisp black suits, looking slightly amused and very pale, as usual. He whips out his wand and repairs the mug as if he didn't scare the living shit out of me.

"What—what—what the _hell_ are you _doing_ here? I thought you were in France!" I ask breathlessly, still shaking.

"I came back early. I finally hired Blaise in your old position, he knows as much about the business as I do, so I sent him to finish out the remainder of the trip for me."

And I do what anyone in my position would.

I shove him in the chest, hard.

"You could've _told_ me."

"That would defeat the purpose of a surprise…"

"Well, you surprised me alright. I almost peed on myself, thank you very much."

"Not the reaction I was looking for, but it'll work."

A smile is growing on my face, "Cheeky bas—"

I really don't expect the next thing, but it comes so fast it nearly steals my breath from me. Draco kisses the hell out of me and sure, we've kissed before, but there's something different about this, something about this that makes it extra special. Maybe it's because I've come to accept the truth about us. Maybe I'm just so damn happy to be kissing him in my kitchen after missing the hell out of him for four days. Maybe it's because after this separation, I hope there will never be another one. Maybe it's because my heart is overwhelmed at the fact that he came home early because he missed me.

Hearing his satisfied sigh makes me shudder right down to the core of me, but it doesn't take much to do that. I swear I'm easy. It doesn't take much to get to me. The small intakes of air, the way he swipes my messy hair behind my ears as we kiss, the way he ends each kiss with a small peck, almost like he's stealing one last taste…

Okay, now I'm being ridiculous.

Only I would notice and overanalyze things like that. I can't even remember exactly who ends each kiss, but this one ends with my head resting against his chin and his fingers running through my hair.

I pause to push down the emotions out of my throat before meeting his eyes. Merlin, he has wonderful eyes. They're nice when he smiles, squinty when he's angry. Guarded most of the time, but also dull and distracted when he's working. No matter how much I try to ignore it, I notice now there's something about the way his eyes are set on his face, something about the way they're connected to his smirks that makes my heart leap everytime.

"Are you staying the night?" I ask, pulling away from him slowly and regretfully.

"I wanted to sleep in my own bed tonight."

My back is turned, but I'm sure the disappointment is evident in my voice, "Oh…okay then."

"If you hurry up and pack what you're going to need tonight, we can floo back to the manor together."

I smile, "I can do that."

* * *

_Why can you read me like no one else?_

_I hide behind these words, but I'm coming out_

_I wish I held them behind my tongue_

_I hide behind these words, but I'm coming out._

_Put your hand between an aching head and an aching world.  
_

_ We'll make them so jealous; we'll make them hate us_

"_It's Not a Side Effect of the Cocaine, I Am Thinking It Must Be Love"—Fall Out Boy_

_(An hour later)_

And that's how I ended up at Malfoy manor, staring out one of the massive windows in his extravagant bedroom.

I've only spent a few nights here since we started dating. It's just too big. I always get lost and frustrated and the house elves always have to give me directions to get from point A to point B, but I don't think they mind. Most of them like me very much. They always have nightclothes waiting for me, as well anything I could ever imagine or want.

Tonight there are fresh tangerines and peanut butter sandwich cut in quarters on a platter on his nightstand.

More than enough, but I'm not too hungry for them right now.

Right now, I'm dressed in silk nightclothes, comfortable slippers, and content with staring out the window.

Draco comes into the room from the bathroom, dressed in black silk pajama pants and no shirt. He wraps his arms around me, resting his hands on my belly and I feel lightheaded from our daughter's movements. It's like she goes nuts everytime he touches me. It's so strong he can feel it…he felt her for the first time last week and he was in so much awe, I started crying from the sight. He couldn't calm me down, panicked, and called Ginny to help.

Ginny and I still laugh about that night.

And I find myself smiling when I think about it.

"Do you want to hear the names on my list?"

I smile, "Sure."

He takes me by the hand and leads me to the bed. I climb in and make myself comfortable, although, it's not hard. His bed is perfect for my back. Draco settles in bed next to me, stretched on his side like a cat, using one hand to prop himself up with his arm. He has his list out and ready and I grab mine from the nightstand.

"Okay, my first one is Deianira, it's Greek."

I look at him like he's crazy, "Dei—what the hell? I can barely pronounce that."

Huffs, "That was my favorite."

"It's pretty exotic."

"Malfoys always have exotic names…hello, _Draco_…that's about as exotic as it can get."

"No thanks. I just want something simple and cute."

Dryly, "Yes, because we both have simple and normal and _cute_ names."

I laugh, "That's not the point. It took Krum nearly half a year to get my name right. I just don't want to subject our daughter to that kind of torture."

He makes a nasty face, "_Krum_…his head is full of cotton. Kept on calling me Dragon all 4th year, need I say more?"

It takes a few minutes, but I stop laughing and clear my throat.

"Well what's your first name then?" Draco asks, still huffing.

"Samantha."

He yawns, "Boring."

"Whatever…what's your next name?"

And it goes on from there. Draco comes up with Dakota, Despina, Drucilla, and Dominique, while I come up with Hollis, Ella, Isabelle, and Alexandria. I hate all his names and he hates all of mine. None of them are sensible for a child with the last name Malfoy anyway. I really didn't put any of my names with a last name; he didn't either, evidently.

Yes. I decided to give our baby his last name after a quick thought of hyphenating our last names. It's too longer and complicated to be a last name and he _is_ the father.

Draco is quiet for a minute before suggesting, "What about Damalis? It sounds good with Malfoy."

I think for a minute, "Doesn't Damalis mean calf in Greek? No thanks, not naming our daughter after a baby cow."

He releases a frustrated groan, "Your turn."

"Caitlin."

Now he looks at me like I'm insane, "What the hell? Please tell me you're kidding."

"Shut up, Draco…your turn."

"Aurora."

"What did I tell you about constellations?"

"They say you're the smartest witch. Apparently you didn't pay attention that day in Astronomy. It's not a bloody constellation…Aurora Borealis is the northern lights. I saw them once, as a kid."

"Don't try to stick in the sentimental value. No space names."

He huffs, "Damn, worth a shot huh?"

I roll my eyes, "Hell no. I'm out of names."

"I have one more…Dracen. It means dragon."

Snickering, "Ever noticed how, except Aurora, all your names begin with D?"

"That's my intention, do you like Dracen?"

"No."

"Well, this was productive…say, what was your mum's name?"

Absently, I ball up the list and sit it on the nightstand, "Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth…" he repeats, but says nothing more on the topic. Instead, he leans over and kisses me quickly, resting his hand on my stomach and there it is again, the fluttering, but now it's different, it's not restless or constant, "Let's pick this up tomorrow when we have the baby names book with us," Draco kisses me again and all the frustration, all the annoyance, it all goes right out the window and I'm filled with all these emotions I can't control.

Easy.

All this is so easy. It's easy to kiss him, easy to slide lips against lips and let myself fill up and get lost with him, easy to touch him, and easy to let him touch me, hesitant at first, but swimming in confidence soon after. The surreal quality from before is back. Draco's fingertips are in caressing my cheek and it's as if a thousand, no, a million small shocks are running through me. His lips part from mine and he kisses me up, behind my ear, and I moan aloud, unable to stop it from gasping out of my mouth.

No man has ever had such an effect on me and I'm firm in the belief that no man ever will because I don't want anyone but him. I haven't, not in a long time. It's taken me two days to realize something I should've realized three years ago.

I pull away and just stare at him.

"We don't have to…" the words die on his lips when I throw my arms around him, hugging him and crying softly.

Draco just holds me. He doesn't know why, he doesn't ask questions, he just drops countless kisses wherever his lips reach as his hands run up and down my back. My shoulder shake, I can't stop them, the tears just gush from my eyes on their own accord. I don't feel sad or anything, just completely overwhelmed by all these feelings.

He just holds me and lets me cry because sometimes it takes all the strength in this world to hold myself together and sometimes, like now, I'm no good at it. I'm too besieged by these intense emotions to even think about holding myself together. Draco doesn't say a word, he just lets me cry and cry until I don't think there's anything left in me.

I don't know what's happening and I'm so scared and when I'm done crying, when there isn't a tear left and I can't take one breath without making some shuddering sound, he's still holding me. And I close my eyes and let myself relax because he's holding me tightly and murmuring into my hair. He always seems to know what's best, even when I don't…and right now, holding me seems like the best choice.

I can't hear a word he's saying, I don't care. His arms say so much more. His arms tell me he cares. He cares about me. He cares enough to learn and remember the insignificant things about me…his arms tell me he always has.

So I let him hold me because somehow Draco has managed to restore my faith in myself and this funny little thing called love.

* * *

Good? I hope so...hopefully not too fluffy. Until next time. 


	12. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling does.

Author's Note: It was a struggle to make this chapter not fluffy as hell and I don't know if I succeeded. Fluffy or not, I _love_ this chapter. I thought it was the hardest to write, but it turns out that chapter 12 was...which is complete. Finally. It took a lot of work and effort, but it is.

I've gotten a few messages that Hermione is OOC and I couldn't agree more, but she's pregnant...I _had_ to make her OOC. She's always been this feisty and independent character, but she doesn't act on her anger all the time and she's not especially clingy. I think pregnancy brings the clingy behavior and the anger out more, with all the outrageous hormones and such going on. Think about it, in the books she slapped Malfoy in 3rd year when she was under so much stress from using the time turner to take so many classes. I don't think that she would've acted that way if she were taking a normal load. And when she set the conjured canaries on Ron in 6th year, she was so upset, shocked, and hurt that Ron was dating Lavender. So her fits of rage in my story only happen when she's under stress or when something so profound is happening to her that she can't help it. The reason she didn't snap on the secretary was because she'd had such a good morning after finding out the sex of the baby. It's also the reason why she slapped Nott and Draco back in chapter 2 and why she went ballistic on Ron.

I've also gotten messages about Draco's character. Yes, he's closed up, but I've given him reasons and a best friend who can understand and explain it. I have to warm Draco up because it makes no sense to keep him cold and unemotional, especially since he and Hermione are getting closer and he's going to be a father. If he's cold and guarded when the baby is born, he'll be like his father and he won't be a good father. I like to think I've been warming him up gradually, rather than having him go from ice cold to fire hot within a chapter. I like to think that the closer they get to the due date, the closer and more unified they become as soon-to-be parents...and the fighting diminishes. And...well, I've just forgotten my train of thought...oops.

Anyways, there is a smut warning on the final part this chapter entitled "Storm". For those who don't read smut, I tried to put the most important part outside the smut part, but it didn't happen that way. Sorry. You should start reading at the line that says, _"Draco moves like a cat"_, it's in **bold**. Have a happy reading. Enjoy the chapter. Peace until next time!

* * *

'_Cause there was something 'bout the way you looked at me.  
And it's strange that things change, but not me wanting you. So desperately.  
You looked my way and said, "You frustrate me."  
Like you're thinking of lines and times when you and I were you and me._  
"_Desperately"—Michelle Branch_

_(A little over a month later: January 5__th)_

Breathe.

Step on.

Look down.

…152.6…152.6 _pounds_.

I stare at the scale in wide-eyed disbelief. I know they said I'd gain approximately two to three pounds a week, but this is ridiculous. I gained four! In a week! I don't know what's going on here, but if someone is playing a joke on me, I'd like them to stop, okay, thanks. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I'm eating healthy, I'm doing yoga and walking around, I've even curbed my peanut butter cookie consumption, and I still gained four pounds since I last stepped on the scale last week.

Sigh.

I realize two to three pounds a week adds up to 32 pounds after a while, but I've never been this big in my entire life. I guess I shouldn't complain. One lady in my Lamaze class gained 80 pounds with her first pregnancy. Draco's eyes got as wide as saucers. I feel faint at the thought of gaining 80 pounds and I have to mentally calm myself down. I don't even know what I'd look like with 80 extra pounds. I look the same with 32 extra pounds; I guess they all collected around my waistline.

So I do what anyone in my situation would do.

I step off the scale and step back on. This thing has to be wrong. It just _has_ to be.

152.7…_ugh!_

I step down.

Draco comes into the bathroom, still in his pajamas, looking adorable with bed tangled hair. His body is just as perfect as ever, hard lines and soft skin; angles and dips and curves and not a hint of fine blonde hair.

For a moment, I'm jealous of him and his body, but then he dips down to kiss the back of my neck and I feel my eyes roll from the heat of his lips on my skin, jealousy forgotten for the moment, "Morning…what are you doing?"

Absently, I reply while waiting for the scale to reset, "Weighing myself."

"_Still?_ Hermione, it's been an _hour_ since you got out of bed to do that."

"I think the scale is broken." I step on again.

152.6…back to what it was before.

Draco looks at the scale, "Looks fine to me."

"Maybe if I weighed naked, that would take about a pound off."

He releases a groan, "You're being frustrating and quite impossible this morning."

"I'm quite aware of that."

"You look better than all those women in your Lamaze class."

"I feel fat."

Draco begins to massage my shoulders, timid at first, and I feel my neck and shoulders relax as his fingers dig into tense skin. With my hair piled on top of my head in a messy bun, he has free reign to drop a soft kiss on the back of my neck again as his hands move down my back, massaging expertly and confidently now.

I feel myself loosen up, feel myself start to drift, start to sink, start to experience that swell in my chest, the one that brings me to tears everytime. I love him.

I love him not because of what he does for me, I love him not because he's so good to me, I love him not because he gives me everything I could ever imagine before I can imagine it, I love him not because of any materialistic reason. I'm sure I love Draco simply for who he is as a man and as a person. I think a large part of me has always loved him. I guess that's why I stayed so long, why I was so patient with his appearance of indifference, and why I slept with him every single time the opportunity presented itself.

And I'm okay with the thought of being in love with him now because I feel like a different person, much different from the girl I used to be. I'm not scared. I'm not going to run. I feel like maybe, maybe one day he's going to catch up with me and he's going to feel the same way I do, and he's going to tell me. I'm confident in this…

I hear myself groan when he hits a particularly sore spot and rest my head back against his body as he focuses on that sore spot. He dips and his lips start sucking on that spot behind my ear, the one that makes me tense and cling to anything near, that one that make me hot and bothered when he lips just brush over it.

He nips at my earlobe quickly and whispers in a raw, deep, and honest voice while his hands massage my lower back adroitly, "You're beautiful."

My eyes water, "You're just telling me that to make me feel better about myself."

"Yes…_and_ because it's true."

I start to argue, but I feel this sharp sensation that makes my breath catch. I grab his arm.

His voice is a bit panicked, "Are you okay?"

I recover a second later and then it happens again, "Oh my—kicking! Feel!" excited, I put his hand to my belly right where I felt the first kick. After another pause, there's another kick and I look at him, smiling so hard my face hurts.

Draco looks simply amazed and we stand there for a bit longer, feeling our baby kick.

Feeling this makes feeling fat and ugly so worth it.

Seeing his face light up makes gaining 32 pounds worth it too.

I lift up on the tips of my toes and kiss him sound on the lips, his arms instinctively wrap around me, pulling me as close as he can, deepening the kiss. As Draco holds my face in his hands and kisses me, I think back to the first night I decided to keep the baby.

Ginny and Pansy finally left me to my thoughts and went into Ginny's room to talk.

I remember going outside and sitting on the patio, looking up at the massive, infinite sky and feeling as if I were a trivial, but essential part of the universe. I remember thinking that I may be carrying one of the most influential people the future wizarding world has ever seen. This baby may make history. This baby may bridge the gap between purebloods and muggle-borns, more than I can ever hope to. This baby may be a force to be reckoned with.

I remember feeling of some sort of freedom too, like I'm doing something a lot of people don't want me to do, defying the rules, being my own person and making my own decision and setting out on my own journey. I felt that night I'd made the right decision and even though I was scared witless, I knew I was doing the right thing.

I remember thinking that moment in my life was epic; as vast and overwhelming as the beauty of the sky.

That same feeling is filling me now as Draco's lips move over mine and his hands rest on my hips.

And then he pulls away, slowly, kissing me one last time before speaking rather softly, "Tonight, we'll pick this up with no interruptions, but right now you're going to be late for lunch with the girls and I'm already late for a meeting."

All I can do is nod.

Tonight.

Tonight is all I can think about when I meet Ginny, Pansy, and Luna at the organic restaurant Ginny and I tried when I first found out I was pregnant. I think about tonight as I listen to them chatter on about everything from Luna's new boyfriend, Nathan, who works with her to Ginny's wedding plans. I think about tonight when I let them feel the baby kicking and when they smile as I recount the entire scene this morning, including the weight issues and Draco telling me I'm beautiful. Pansy flashes a knowing smile, but I'm too busy thinking about tonight to ask her what it means.

I'm so nervous thinking about tonight.

I don't know why. It's not like it's going to be our first time, but I feel insecure about myself.

Merlin, I'm going to crush him. Yes, I know he can pick me up without even thinking about it, but seriously, I may kill Draco Malfoy…and although I may have wanted to do that in school, I definitely don't want to do that now.

"'Mione, you look stressed," Luna observes with a worried look on her face.

I snap out of my thoughts, "Oh, I'm just thinking, sorry," I quickly divert attention away from myself, "Pans, didn't you say something about needing to make an announcement or something?"

"Oh," she thumps herself in the head, "I forgot about that, yeah I do…ladies," she sits up properly, "I have officially stopped dating around."

I pretend to clean out my ears, "I'm sorry, what? I don't think I heard you correctly—"

"Yeah," Ginny interjects, "it sounded like she said she stopped dating around…Luna did you hear it too?"

She looks at us and all around the room, "Yes, but I think it was the wrackspurt getting in our ears and making everything go fuzzy."

My eyes fall on Pansy, who doesn't look the least bit humored by our sarcasm, in fact, her arms are folded and she's frowning, like a little pug, "Ha, ha, guys, are you done?"

Ginny: "Perhaps."

Me: "Maybe."

Luna: "I was serious. Wrackspurts are a huge problem."

Ginny and I burst into fits of giggles.

"See what I mean?" Luna argues, pointing at us.

"No wrackspurts here, Ginny and 'Mione are just being sarcastic, as per usual."

I hit Ginny in the arm to get her to stop laughing and we both paste serious looks on our faces, though just barely.

"Now that I have your undivided attention, I was informing you all that I am no longer dating around…rather, I've settled on one guy."

My eyebrow rises, "One?"

"Yes,_ one_," she replies with bitter tones, "That number between 0 and 2."

"I know where it is, but I didn't think _you_ did."

Pansy pouts, "Are you done making jokes? Because this is serious, I'm_ serious_."

She looks dead serious, actually. Usually when we tease her, she just laughs and goes along with it or tries to turn it on us. Now, she looks positively distraught that we're teasing her. I sober up at the sound of her voice and her red face, "Well, okay, wow. Congrats, Pans."

She smiles brightly, "Thanks, 'Mione. Don't you want to know who the lucky guy is?"

"Don't you mean tortured boy—" I hit Ginny in the arm and she frowns at me, "What? I was just _saying_—"

"Thanks, Hermione for shutting her up…it's Ron."

"_RON?_" The three of us repeat at the same time, astonished.

Luna is the first to speak, "You mean…Ronald _Weasley_? Red hair, freckled, Ron Weasley who doesn't comb his hair?"

Pansy grins, "Yes, the very one."

Ginny stammers, pale and looking flabbergasted, "M-my brother? You're dating my brother?"

"Not yet," she replies, "but we're heading in that direction."

My response is last, "The Baby Ruth thief?"

Pansy chuckles at the memory, her face glazed over in what I can only describe as fondness, "Yes."

Ginny and I speak simultaneously, stammering and all, "How—how did this happen?"

"Well, it started the day of the Quidditch accident. I was terrified that he was going to die. I've never feared for someone's life like that, it made me realize just how deeply I care for that goofball. And while Hermione was saving him, I just stood there and thought about life without him…and seriously, I couldn't imagine it and I didn't want to. And I thought about if, outside you three, Daphne, Draco, and Blaise, if I ever felt that way about anyone else and I came up with an answer: no."

Ginny, Luna, and I just sit there, entranced.

"I've _never_ cared about someone like I care about him, not any of the guys I dated, not even people in my own family. He makes me laugh, he's ridiculous, he's got hygiene issues sometimes, he eats all the bloody time, he's a pain in the arse, but I like him and I care for him. I didn't know I could care for someone like I care for him."

I just sit there, reeling.

She sounds so genuine. I've never heard her speak about anything like this, not even her favorite pair of shoes.

"And when he got out the hospital," Pansy continues, "I dropped by his flat, just to see how he was doing. He made all these jokes and he made me laugh even though he was the one hurting. His hair was messy and he was wearing those ridiculous superman pajama pants and I just," she pauses and looks down at her plate, struggling to find the right words, but I think I understand her, "I don't know, it barely makes sense to me, but just seeing him—made my heart flutter, just a bit. My heart has never fluttered before and I thought I was having a heart-attack, which is ridiculous. I'm 21 and no man has ever made my heart flutter," Pansy half-laughs, "That night I called everyone in my book and told them all I couldn't see them anymore."

Pansy takes a sip of her water before continuing.

"I went back to his flat the next night, just to see if I was crazy. I felt crazy. I just _had_ to see him. And Blaise suggested that—"

"You went to _Blaise_ the Italian Casanova for relationship advice? Ginny interrupts, "Over your mates?"

"Well, I called Draco first, but that was the night he returned to London early and he was…_indisposed_," she looks at me with a knowing smirk…one that I return. She turns her attention to Ginny, "And I didn't know how you'd feel about the whole thing."

"Are you kidding? This is perfect!" she squeals and gestures for her to proceed, "Keep talking."

Pansy smiles, happy she has Ginny's approval, "Okay, well, Ron was kind of surprised to see me. Harry was there and they were talking about something, I don't really know, I just sat there and pretended to listen and care, but I spent the entire time staring at him—"

Ginny cuts her off again, "Oh, I remember that night. Harry said something about you looking funny." I hit her in the arm for interrupting and she blushes, "Sorry, proceed."

She giggles, "Well, seeing him smile makes me smile, seeing his frown makes me frown, and I think I knew I wasn't crazy. I was feeling things for him, against my better judgment, against everything I know. Ron doesn't have a single quality in a man that I look for, not one. He's messy, he acts like a child, he always has some sort of food on his face, but when he started talking to me, I felt the happiest I've ever been. He looked at me like I was a human being and not a piece of meat. He laughs at my jokes, made me take off my shoes, and we even had a pillow fight. It was the best night of my life. I had fun. He makes me want to live in the now, he makes me want to be a better person, he makes me…happy."

She's smiling so brightly and I feel so happy for her.

"Before I left, I asked him out. He looked at me like I was crazy. He said we were just friends, we always have been and I told him I didn't want to be just his friend anymore. He said we're different people. I told him opposites attract, look at Draco and Hermione."

"We're not _that_ different." I mutter.

"You two have a few of the same qualities: both of you are _extremely_ headstrong, prideful, restrained, and logical, but other than that, you and Draco are complete opposites. He's standoffish, but not in a mean way, it's as if he—he's a bit introverted. And you, 'Mione, you're a bit more open and trusting…well, except when you're dealing with him. Then you both put your guards up, but I've noticed he's letting his down faster these days." Luna observes serenely, drinking her water.

_Say what?_ I always knew Luna was observant, but damn, she almost has us down to a science.

"Exactly, I agree," Pansy tacks on, "You two are almost as different as Ron and I."

"How was the date?" I ignore them all.

Pansy's face lights up, "I swear, guys, I've never had more fun on a date…ever. We went to shoot paint ball guns and then to dinner. My hair was a mess, but I didn't care. I _always_ care about my physical appearance and that night I didn't care and he didn't either. He looks at me like I'm the prettiest girl in the world even when I'm in a less-than-perfect state. He makes me feel comfortable and I can cut loose with him, I don't know where we're going with this, but I want to see this through. I don't care about the gifts, I don't care about the materialistic things, and I'm not going to use him…I just wanted you all to know that."

* * *

_There now, steady love, so few come and don't go,  
Will you…won't you, be the one I'll always know  
When I'm losing my control, the city spins around  
You're the only one who knows, you slow it down_

"_Look After You"—The Fray_

_(Later on that evening)_

Ginny looks up from her book, "What about baby blue and white?"

"I don't like baby blue."

Harry and Ginny have been discussing wedding colors for the last hour at the kitchen table…well, more like arguing.

They can't agree on color. Harry likes red, Ginny says red makes her look splotchy, which is true. It doesn't go with her hair color or skin tone at all. Ginny likes yellow, but Harry thinks it's too girly. Ginny likes green, Harry doesn't. Pansy suggested gold and they agreed for the first time that they both hate gold and Pansy gave up trying.

Now she's sitting in armchair, rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness going on in the kitchen.

Luna suggests, "What about lavender?"

Harry groans, "That's even worse than pastel yellow."

Ginny sighs.

Draco, who's been really quiet since he got here, whispers in my ear, "Why am I here?"

"Waiting for Ron, Katie, and Susan to get here so we can go to dinner…"

Impatiently, "Can we skip dinner? I want to show you something."

I don't get a chance to answer his question because Ron steps out of the floo. My eyes immediately fall on Pansy, who looks up, rather shy and apprehensive, the first time I've ever seen her unsure of herself. Ron greets us all with waves, Harry and Ginny are too busy disagreeing about dark blue to really appreciate his presence. From the corner of my eye, I watch Draco's eyebrow steadily rise when Pansy stands up and approaches Ron, who's taking off his jacket.

Draco asks, "Are they—?"

"Shh," I cut him off, not wanting to ruin their little moment.

Together, we watch Pansy tap him on the shoulder and Ron turn around, his smile growing when he sees her there.

"Hi," Pansy's voice is soft and hesitant. She's staring into his eyes, blue on blue.

I find myself grinning when Ron bashfully blushes and replies with a very nervous, "Hey…you look v-very pretty today."

I've never seen Pansy blush. Men tell her she's pretty and beautiful all the time and she only reacts with a look that simply says, _"I know."_

Tonight, her face flames up and she giggles like a girl with a crush, "Thanks."

Her next move is hesitant and it's like her body is in an argument of whether or not she's going to do it. After pulling back and pushing forward at least twenty times, Pansy lifts up on the tips of her toes and plants a chaste kiss on Ron's cheek.

Ron drops his jacket and an orange tulip falls out. Clumsily, he nearly runs into Pansy when he dives down to pick it up.

I hear Draco chuckling next to me and I glare at him quickly before looking back.

Pansy is all smiles when he hands her the tulip.

Ron rubs the back of his neck, "I, uh, I—I remember how you told me you like orange tulips. S-so, I brought you one."

She fingers the petals on the flower, "Thanks," she kisses his other cheek and excuses herself to go to the bathroom… probably to fight the blush off her face.

Luna follows her to help.

Ron looks at Draco and points at him threateningly, "Not a word from you, Malfoy."

Draco holds his hands up, as if surrendering, "I have nothing to say, Weasley…you still are our king."

I crack up laughing. Ron glares at me and I clear my throat and paste an innocent look on my face.

Pansy and Luna come back from the bathroom minutes later, one smiling and the other looking less flushed. Ron is sitting on the floor in front of the armchair she vacated, head resting back against it. She sits next to him on the floor and they start talking in soft tones, her hand is resting on his knee while the other holds the tulip and he's playing with her fingers.

Seconds later, Pansy's giggles fill the room and they are just so damn cute.

Draco's hand finds mine and I look at him.

"I'm glad she's happy."

"Me too," I rest my head on his shoulder, "Me too."

Katie and Susan step out the fireplace half an hour later, dusting their shoulders. I get up and hug them both; it's been months since I've seen them. They've been really busy and so have I.

"Oh, Hermione! You're just too cute!" Susan and Katie swoon simultaneously, rubbing my belly.

I smile, "Thanks guys."

Katie grins, "When are you due?"

"March 8th. It's a girl."

The two of them squeal in excitement and I find myself laughing at them. Ginny gets up and comes over to greet her teammates. Harry and Ron hug them. Pansy hugs them both and I formally introduce them to Draco. He shakes both of their hands politely and the arguing couple abandons their quest for wedding colors and we all sit and talk.

Draco and Pansy remain quiet, for the most part, only speaking when spoken to. Ron's hand is entwined with hers and she looks too content to speak. As for Draco, he looks deep in thought and restless.

Susan tells us that she is dating Dean Thomas and has been for about two months. Katie tells us her sister is pregnant again and she just started dating Lee Jordan about a week ago. Ginny and Harry chatter on about wedding plans like an excited couple that wasn't just arguing ten minutes ago. And they ask me the question I've been asked at least a hundred times since we found out the sex.

"Have you picked out a name?" Susan asks the million dollar question.

"Well, not—"

"Actually," Draco cuts me off, "I think I've figured out the perfect name."

I find myself groaning, while everyone else is excited, "What?" Ginny, Pansy, and Katie ask together.

"Yeah, what?" I fold my arms and cock my head to the side to look at him.

He looks dead at me, "Elizabeth Dracen Malfoy."

Ginny: "Oh that is so cute! I'll call her Little Lizzie."

Katie: "Wonderful name. Very proper."

Ron: "Nice name."

Pansy: "I like it!"

A skeptical Harry: "You came up with that yourself, Malfoy?" Ginny swats him in the arm.

Susan: "I love it. It's beautiful."

They're speaking at the same time, but my eyes are as wide as saucers, "Y-you mean—after my mother?"

He shrugs, "I like the name, it's your mother's name and she died having you and I thought you may want to honor her."

"I do. I like it…Draco, I _really_ like it…and you got Dracen in there."

"Of course," he smirks, "have to put a little of me in there and it sounds good there…better than Damalis."

I smile and laugh a little, thoughtfully resting my hand on my stomach.

Elizabeth Dracen Malfoy…sort of simple, very meaningful, and just perfect.

Dinner passes quickly and while everyone chatters on incessantly, I find myself quiet and a little tired and watching Draco. He hasn't spoken a lot, but what is lacking in conversation between us is more than compensated for with a series of exchanges of lingering glances.

I find that as Draco begins to warm up to me and everyone and the more he sheds this cold, uncaring image of his, as Ron and Pansy flirt with each other, as I feel the baby kicking, and even as Harry and Ginny discuss wedding plans, I feel overwhelmed by the drastic changes occurring in my world and I find it impossible not to let myself be carried away by all the emotions that wash over me.

The meal was delicious though I'll give myself a headache trying to recall all the details.

I spend a lot of dinner unconsciously watching Draco, feeling my face flame up everytime he catches me and he gives me a confused look accompanied with a small smirk. However, what puzzles me is his apparent hesitation to leave. After not even wanting to come, I half-expect, half-want him to grab me and bolt from the restaurant the moment we finished eating. But instead, Draco insists on ordering dessert for everyone, dessert I don't even want, and seems desperate to stall for time.

But then we leave and after a quick goodbye to my friends, I brace myself for a side-along apparation (because it's no longer safe for me to apparate without splinching myself) that brings us to a place I recognize. It's this beautiful brick house I've passed by a few times on my morning walks. It's not far from my flat, maybe five minutes, literally in walking distance, in an affluent subdivision that as a lot of kids and is perfect for wealthy couples who want to raise their children. I see them playing in the afternoons when I'm walking.

Quizzical, I look at Draco, "What are we doing here? Who lives here?"

"I do, I just bought it last week…and if you want, you can too."

My head starts to spin and I find myself lightheaded from the shock, "Umm…what? You want us to live together?" I ask uneasily. It's one thing to date; it's another thing to live together. I sigh, "Draco—"

"Ginny's getting married in six months and she's going to move in with Harry right after and I don't want you to live alone with the baby…and I—" he pauses as if he's searching for the right words, he sighs a few seconds later, "I know it's moving faster than you want, but I'm tired of visiting you or you visiting me. We sleep in the same bed every night. You have clothes at the manor and I have clothes at your flat. I just want—what I want to say is, Hermione, I—" he stops himself, sighing with frustration and looking away.

I just stare at him for a while, waiting for him to finish the sentence, but he never does.

So I ask, "Do you think this is a smart idea?"

Draco's eyes meet with mine briefly, "I've thought about it for weeks, even before I bought the house and I do think it's a good idea. It'll be good for our baby if she has both her parents together and I could help…with things."

"But what if we break—"

"Let's not talk about something that may not come to pass."

"We're going to fight—"

"All couples fight. I think it's clear that we're not perfect and when it comes down to it, we're ordinary. We've spent most of our lives fighting, but here we are."

Yes, here we are. After over three years of being nothing, here we are as something deep and meaningful.

"If we can survive your mood swings, we can survive anything."

Chuckles, "Draco, I—it makes a lot of sense, us living together, but we haven't been together long, only about four months…and it's a lot to have to think about. If I do, I won't move in until Ginny's wedding."

"That's fine…that's actually how long I wanted to wait. It's going to take that long to get everything painted and furnished and baby-proofed."

Wow, he really has all this planned out. Ginny and I just managed to get the nursery in our flat painted pastel yellow two days ago…well we made Harry and Ron do it while we sat on the floor, drank juice, and critiqued, much to their total dismay, "What are you going to do with the manor?"

"Keep it. The wing for the baby is done so I want to use it as a weekend getaway house. Ginny wants to use the garden as the venue of the wedding."

"She told me…why are you doing all this?"

"I realized I couldn't live there anymore, it's too far away, and I always have to travel to your flat by floo if I want to come directly from home. I keep a car in the city just in case I need to drive, but it's too far away to drive it home. Also, the manor is too large for me to be the only person to live in it so I decided to move closer…would you like a tour?"

The house is empty with high walls and ceilings and is about fifty years old, but it's a beautiful classic that's been maintained well by the previous owners.

When we first walk in there is a little foyer with a classic golden chandelier, the floor is wooden, but he tells me he wants all the wood taken out and replaced. On the left is a curved staircase with a crafted railing that leads to the second floor and on the right is the spacious living room. The living room opens right into the dining room, which has this beautiful gold chandelier and this hideous wallpaper that Draco wants to get rid of immediately. The dining room opens right into the kitchen, but before I can see it, he takes my hands and leads me back to the foyer.

When you keep straight through the foyer, it leads into the spacious family room that has lots of windows, this beautiful white fireplace that he's going to connect to the floo network, and hardwood floors he wants to replace with carpet, for when the baby starts crawling. To the left is the kitchen. It's large and open, lots of counter-space and lots of cabinets, and enough room for a kitchen table. There are all kinds of closets, an office just off the family room, and two half bathrooms.

Draco looks at me when we conclude downstairs, "I have an appointment with a muggle designer on Monday and if you want, you can help design it, you're better with that kind of stuff anyway."

He's telling the truth, I just smile, "I'd like that, very much."

Upstairs, there are five bedrooms and four bathrooms and a bonus room. The master bedroom is gorgeous. It's at the end of the hall and opens with double doors. Pure white walls, wonderful ceiling, it's an open room. The master bathroom is just…amazing. There's a large Jacuzzi tub and a separate shower, his and her sinks, nice toilet, lots of room, and the room is completely made of marble. The master bedroom connects with a smaller room, which is the nursery, he tells me. The other four bedrooms are decent sized, with walk-in closets. The bathrooms upstairs all have his and her sinks, but he wants to re-tile all the bathrooms, and reasonably so. The house is older. The last room we see is the bonus room, which is spacious, lets in a lot of moonlight, and leads to the attic.

By the time the tour concludes, I'm just in awe.

"What do you think?"

I'm speechless. It's perfect. It's beautiful. And I can definitely see myself living here…with him.

* * *

_And I will walk on water,  
And you will catch me if I fall,  
And I will get lost into your eyes,  
And everything will be alright,  
And everything will be alright._

"_Storm"—Lifehouse_

_(Around midnight that night)_

We're sitting face to face in the Jacuzzi bath in his bedroom like a couple of kids, blowing froth at each other while sneaking little feels of water-soaked skin. There is always this little tension in my back these days, but right now, I'm more relaxed than I can ever remember in recent memory. Draco's hand is on my stomach, gently caressing, feeling our daughter kick strongly.

I'm kind of used to the kicking, she's been at it all day, but I don't think he's used to feeling it.

I guess the kicking makes this all real, I know it makes it real to me…even realer than the ultrasounds, the growing belly, the whooshing, and the seventeen positive pregnancy tests.

When his eyes meet mine, I realize that this too is real. Draco and I, we're real. We've fought and screamed and yelled and sat in stubborn silence, I've cried, he's stormed out in anger, I've stormed out in anger, I've slapped him, but he's apologized and I've apologized and I've sought him out and he's sought me out, we've made up and we're right here…

Together.

My hand disappears under the water and finds his, squeezing it tightly.

Subdued, Draco tucks a few wet, stringy tendrils that didn't make it into the high bun behind my ear, "How do you feel?"

"Wonderful."

"Good." He pulls me close with his soapy arms and gives me a kiss, a wet kiss that makes me weak and my toes curl.

Draco smells as good as he tastes. Everywhere tastes like a dream, I discover this when my lips wander down his chin to his Adam's apple and over to his neck. His mouth and his skin taste heavenly and I only pull away when I hear his low groan and feel his wet hands run down my back. He turns me around and I feel the evidence of his horniness press against my back, so I push back against him, just lightly, just enough to tease him.

He allows me to tease for just a moment before he adjusts and mutters in a quiet whisper, "Patience, Hermione, patience."

"I have all the patience in the world," but it seems he's inherited some, not much, but just enough.

Draco drops a single kiss on my shoulder and I shut my eyes.

There is no more talking.

We take our time. Just touching and bathing each other with liquid soap and washcloths and even our hands, periodically he'll kiss me until my neck goes lax or I'll kiss him until he moans in my mouth.

After we rinse one another off, he takes a moment to dip down and nibble on my earlobe, caressing me with his hands and I use my fingers to tease his nipples. It takes about a second for our moans to bounce off the walls of the bathroom. I don't know who's more out-of-sorts and I don't know who's shaking more, all I know is I'm ultra-sensitive from the heat of the bath and all this foreplay; the touching, caressing, kissing, and nibbling…and I'm sure he is too. I still feel the verification that tells me how correct I am. Draco soaps up my back while pulling me into his lap. We're slippery from foam and soap and fragrant oil.

I'm hoping I can convince him that the best place to be after a bath is in front of a burning fireplace on the mat the house elves set up. I'm feeling mellow, no longer nervous like before, and I'm feeling his fingers on my thighs and his lips on my neck, making me hot all over. I shouldn't even be thinking about sex, but right now it's all I can think about.

I want his hands all over me.

This want is so strong I don't think I can stand on my own even if I wanted to.

My body feels limp with tension; that strange feeling I get when I'm blindly horny. I know that he wants to touch me too because that's what he's doing. Touching me everywhere, setting my skin afire, and making me moan softly. I turn in the tub and face him, running my hands down his body, boldly moving between his legs, taking him between slippery fingers.

Draco tenses and bites his lip, "Oh goddamn."

I smile to myself, taking that as permission to continue, which I do, slowly, taking my time, teasing the head between my fingers. I don't think we've ever done anything like this before. It's always been just an insufficient amount of foreplay, which is quickly followed by rushed vanilla sex. Don't get me wrong, it's amazing; sex with Draco is always wonderful.

But this is better…

We've never taken the time to just familiarize ourselves and enjoy each other's bodies and I've certainly never touched him this way before, never stroked him, and never tasted him. He's never let me and there's never been enough time.

But now there is time, for all of that. Well, maybe not tonight, but in the future.

I don't even think we've ever had sex in a bed before either. It'll be a nice change to things.

As I continue, applying pressure with my finger to the vein underneath and swirling my finger all over the head, Draco's moans become louder and more ragged. He's flushed all over and it's a nice contrast to his pale skin. Adding a second hand, I tighten my fingers around him and fondle him with hard strokes that make him groan with each thrust. He throws his head back, mouth hanging slightly ajar.

I pick now to speak for the first time, "Good?"

Draco just groans, muttering unintelligible words under his breath, resting back against the edge of the tub, making me come with him. I rest my lips against his sternum just a moment before resuming, moving harder and faster than before.

He's holding my waist, rocking his hips, thrusting into my hand; the oil in the water helps him glide through my hands with ease. My lips find his and he kisses me fervently, moaning like a mad man and shivering despite the warmth of the bath. I stop moving my hands and just enjoy his kisses and the feel of him thrusting. His tongue flickers against mine and I just sigh, which makes him go rigid.

I don't think he's going to last much longer.

Draco breaks the kiss suddenly and gives off a shudder, trying to glide himself through my hand even faster. Water sloshes everywhere, it has been for a while, but I just noticed it. I don't think he cares much. He's lost in rapture to care about something as trifling as water getting in his bathroom floor. I drop a hand and rub the head with my fingers, helping him to his orgasm faster and he almost yells. He's sensitive. He's going to lose it. And I love this.

I'm a giver. I like giving him pleasure. I like the way he moans my name. I like how his eyes are shut just so, like he's dreaming. Seeing him like this, giving him pleasure this way makes my blood boil with lust. He pulls me in and starts sucking at my mouth, hungry, and I pull his bottom lip with both of mine. With his mouth free, he uses it to moan aloud and curse and I use mine to kiss wherever my lips reach.

His legs are quivering. He's so closer. It's almost over.

I hear that moan, that familiar moan, that deep moan like he's eating something scrumptious, the moan that lets me know his orgasm is impending. My hands may be tired now, but hearing that moan charges me, makes my hand move rapidly in sync with his hip thrusts.

His breathing quickens more, he's panting like he's been running a marathon, and his eyes lock with mine and the look he gives me is one I don't have enough time to recognize. Draco's body gives a violent lurch when he orgasms. It's long and especially brutal and leaves him clinging to me and shaking…

The bedroom is dark, cold, and quiet, but not for long.

Wrapped in bathrobes, a revitalized Draco starts a fire with his wand and I stand at the doorway to the bathroom, watching him carefully fluff the pillows on the makeshift bed the house elves made hours before, per his request. Yes, I've managed to convince him the perfect post-bath spot is in front of a warm fire. It didn't take much to convince him.

It takes a few minutes, but he comes and leads me towards the bed in front of the fire and shuts the door to the bathroom. I hear it makes that 'click' noise that echoes off the walls of his bedroom as the door latches. I confess I'm a tad worried about the softness of the bed, but my worrying is in vain.

It's very comfortable and I settle on it with ease.

Draco is quiet as he helps me rid myself of the bathrobe, that is, until he says, "Lay back."

And since I'm in a very compliant mood tonight, I do as I'm told.

He disappears for a minute and returns with lotion. Draco drops to his knees and begins to rub lotion into my feet, taking his time, massaging them, one at a time until they're nice and soft. Then he squirts more lotion into his hands and works it into my calves, moving up to my knees. His rubs are deep and it makes muscles I didn't even know were aching sing with relief.

Up, up, up, up he goes, up my legs, rubbing lotion into and massaging my knees and thighs, rubs lotion on my belly which starts up the kicking momentarily. When he moves on, the kicking settles down and I see his face for the first time since he started. He looks like he's concentrating on the task at hand. Breasts, shoulders, and arms…right down to the fingers.

I'm so comfortable I feel my eyes start to shut, but Draco drops a kiss on my shoulder to wake me up.

"No sleeping, not yet."

I nod, opening my eyes to look at him, but I dare not speak. Not that I can anyway. My heart is racing in my chest just from the sight of him.

Draco rolls me on my side deftly and rubs lotion from the nape of my neck to the back of my thigh.

By the time he finishes, my body is humming and is on fire; it a fire no amount of water can stop from spreading. He rests on the bed behind me and I feel his breath on my neck where his hands were minutes before and his hands…they seems to be skimming along my skin, not touching, but just close enough to raise the hairs.

The next thing I know, he's kissing my neck, rubbing his hands all over and I feel myself drifting.

I move to roll over, but he stops me, "No, no, don't move. You don't have to do a thing." Draco tells me and the next thing I know, we're laying on our sides, face to face, and he presses his mouth to mine.

His kiss is soft and gentle, but increases with urgency quickly, at least on my part. He slowly rolls me on my back and lifts up a bit, not detaching our lips for a moment. He's still lying beside me and his hands feel all over my warm skin, lifting my breasts, rubbing my inner thighs, and touching my face.

As I lose myself in the long, continuous assault of lips and tongue, Draco's fingertips find my nipples, already hard from his kisses and the cool room. I moan in his mouth and feel his lips move into a smile as he toys with them for a moment, flicking them, careful not to hurt me. They are sensitive and heavy. His lips move down to suck on apparently his favorite part of me, my neck, just for a moment, it's too late, I gasp. His free hand works its way down my body.

Instinctively, I pull my feet closer to me, making my knees stand in the air. Draco spreads my legs with that one hand, his delicate touch quickly find what it seeks between my legs and his releases a small groan and a "oh yes" when he discovers I'm already wet. I release an "oh yes" too, at the same time, but for a different reason.

It's more like, "oh yes he's touching me."

When his finger grazes against my clit, it takes everything in me not to cry out. My head is spinning. I have to close my eyes to stop the room from swaying. His touch is gentle, teasing, and my back arches a little on its own accord. Draco curls his fingers, easing two into the wet warmth of my body and I moan his name softly.

"Yes?" he whispers, kissing the corners of my mouth.

"More." My body is flushed with pleasure and I smile when he presses his fingers deeper, his thumb easily slides back and forth over my swollen clit, sending these blinding waves of pleasure through my body. My whimpers are soft and they float away from me.

Draco's fingers send me to a place I haven't been to in a while. They move rapidly and I cling to the sheets, moaning and quivering. His lips are everywhere it seems and I'm hazy and overwhelmed. Deep, deep, deep they move, in and out. And then all the way out. He slides one back in, then out, and slides two in together. And then he repeats everything. By the third time, my breathy whimpers and soft moans change quickly into outright cries of pleasure.

I feel my body tighten, muscles vice grip his fingers, pulling them deeper.

Draco's lips cover mine and his fingers freely move, inadvertently making his thumb rub my clit faster than I can imagine or handle in this ultra-sensitive state I'm in, his mouth steals my moans and I'm surprised I lasted this long.

But I know I won't last longer.

I feel myself going over the edge quickly. I'm so beset with everything right now; all of my senses are heightened to the ten millionth degree. I taste him, I see him, I smell him, I feel him, and I touch him. All I want is him. All I want is this.

And Draco holds me, kisses me and whispers to me as the pleasure builds and breaks inside of me. I feel my thighs tense as my orgasm hits me like a train, quick and severe and brutal. I cry out in his mouth, it's so intense it forces the kiss to break and I strain off the mattress. Draco holds me, not too tight, but tight enough. He holds me as this orgasm destroys every ounce of reserve I have in my possession. My breaths are short, my head is still spinning, and I'm trying to grasp anything in my reach.

The only thing I can reach is his other hand and I grip it tight.

**Draco moves like a cat, always has.**

Somehow he pulls the covers over us both and spends the next few minutes calming my quaking body with kisses under the covers. Everywhere his fingers touch he kisses, soft kisses, sometimes only hints of breath on my skin that make me shiver.

I float. I recover. I doze.

"Are you alright?" his voice is low, so low he has to ask again so I can hear him.

"Yes. That was fantastic."

He chuckles, "I'm glad you enjoyed it, but we're not done."

We're not?

And then, because he moves like a cat and I'm still dozing, he's above me, pulling the covers down and standing over the makeshift bed I'm comfortably relaxing in. He scoops me into his arms effortlessly; holding me like a fireman holds a child he's rescuing from a burning building. I wrap my arms around him, relaxing against his chest, listening to the sound his heart makes. As he carries me to the bed, I realize maybe I'm not so heavy after all.

Or maybe he's strong.

Draco sits me on the edge of the bed and stands between my parted legs, still in his robe.

Oh, that has to go…and I make it do just that.

"That's better," I smile.

I hear him chuckle before he kisses my lips, a light kiss full of promise. Draco then kisses my eyelids and the tip of my nose before he speaks softly, "Tell me what you want, Hermione."

What I want. In some form, he asks me this everytime we've had sex and I've never given him an answer. Right now, I want so much right now I can barely contain myself, so much it makes my eyes water with tears. I want him. I want him to never leave me. I want him to love me like I love him. I want him to need me. I want the world and I want forever. I want this night to never end and I want to wake in his arms every morning until the day I die.

I want it all, but I don't know how to articulate all these wants.

He kisses me deeply, cupping my cheeks and stroking my jaw with his thumbs.

Everything is hazy and I feel drunk and delirious, until he pulls back.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want to be beautiful to you," I reply in this odd, urgent voice that doesn't sound like me.

His eyes are set on me, locked and unmoving, His thumb strokes my cheek, "You are." Draco looks so serious right now and I'm trying to figure out why…as well as try to stop this explosion in my chest from his words. He starts touching me again, large hands wander all over my body, waking me up, making me want him again, "Tell me…tell me what else you want, Hermione."

Everything is blending. One sensation after the other and my head is spinning. My hands are all over him now and I can't stop touching him, my touches make him gasp in increasing pleasure. I feel the last of my questions and worries slip away when our eyes meet again.

"Tell me." He says again, voice stronger and more pressing.

"Don't you know what I want? You always know." I whisper, brushing trembling fingers over his lips.

"I'm not a seer, Hermione. I don't have telepathic powers. I want you to tell me what you want." I feel the way he quivers against me and I know it's not nervousness, just simple, barely controlled desire. More than anything I'm exhilarated by the realization that he can't disguise how much he wants me, even as I struggle to find a way to say exactly what I want.

"I want…" I falter, and he kisses me quickly.

Suddenly I'm overwhelmed by everything and I begin to kiss him again and in between the kisses I tell him exactly what I want.

"I want…I just want…I just want you to love me…just love me."

His eyes soften.

Draco kisses me just once before whispering in my ear, words so softly they pull at my heart, "I always have."


	13. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling does.

Author's note: Thanks for everyone's great reviews! I'm glad you all liked the name, the strengthening of their relationship, Pansy and Ron, and the house. Pansy and Ron were not part of the original plan, but they work and Pansy did say she wanted to settle down. I finished thirteen really fast, faster than expected, so here's 12. This is THE hardest chapter I've ever had to write and I hope I got everything down perfect (or as close to perfect as I can). This chapter didn't happen anything like I planned, but it turned out well. I took an idea and ran with it and I hope everyone enjoys it and is touched by it as my cousin was (she read it first). Not much else to say, only have a happy reading and please read and review. Until next time, peace!

* * *

_I find peace when I'm confused_

_I find hope when I'm let down_

_Not in me…me, in you...it's in you._

"_You"—Switchfoot_

_(Almost five weeks later: February 8__th)_

Pansy is a sneaky little Slytherin.

For three weeks she's been conspiring to convince me to let her throw me a baby shower and for three weeks I've been adamant in my answer: no.

She tries to drag Blaise in it and he shakes his head and replies with an, _"Are you trying to get me killed?" _Draco just takes one good look at her and walks away; he vehemently _hates_ parties anyway. Ginny is too wrapped up in wedding plans, but I know that if she weren't getting married, Pansy would have an accomplice. Luna isn't the plotting type. Pansy may be dating Ron, but I think he's still a bit traumatized from the "Baby Ruth incident" to even try me again, at least until after I have the baby and my hormones are set right. Harry is out of the question.

And even without an accomplice, Pansy still manages to get what she wants.

That devious Pansy calls me last night at three in the morning and begs me until I cave, scream at her so loud Draco nearly falls out of bed, agrees just so she'd get off my phone, and hang up in her face. It takes about three seconds after hanging up to realize what I've done and I curse under my breath.

Draco chuckles and goes back to sleep.

So this morning, when she comes bouncing in the kitchen, cheering gleefully at her victory, I want to chuck this pan of half scrambled eggs at her for waking me up, but I refrain, finish cooking, and call everyone to breakfast. Ginny and I usually don't eat breakfast together, but Harry and Draco are here, and today is going to be a long day for the five of us, so we decided to have a healthy start with egg, sausage, toast and jam, and a tangerine for me.

Harry, who is still in pajamas, helps set the table. Draco, who has at least put on a shirt for the occasion, pours orange juice for everyone and sits a pre-natal vitamin next to my juice. I swear he's my better half sometimes. My mind is so scattered with work, getting life ready for a baby, Ginny's wedding, trying to keep Pansy distracted from her quest to make my life miserable…it's just good that someone else thinks about things I forget. Ginny brings vegetable juice to the table for me, kisses her fiancé, and sits next to him.

Minutes later, we're all settled and eating breakfast quietly. Draco is reading the Daily Prophet in between bites.

"So I've decided we should kill three birds with one stone," Pansy announces at almost at the end of breakfast.

We all just look at her, waiting for her to explain.

"See, Harry and Ginny have to mail out invitations, go look for bridesmaid dresses, which I have to be a model for, and they have to go cake-tasting. Draco and 'Mione are going to look for the crib for the flat and a few assorted items for the newly completed baby room and you all have to go look at the new house. I have to plan the baby shower. I've already sent out invitations—"

I cut her off, "Pans, I just gave you permission four _hours_ ago."

"I know, but they were already ready, I knew I'd convince you. I'm very cunning and I _always_ get my way," she smiles cryptically, "Anyways," she clasps her hands together, "I know 'Mione would love to taste cake and Draco would love not to be bothered, so when you go cake tasting, Draco can come with me to pick out decorations…after all, the shower _is_ going to be at the manor."

Draco looks at her over his newspaper, "It is?"

"Yes, of course. Where else are we going to fit a hundred people?"

I nearly choke on my vegetable juice, "Pans…you invited a _hundred_ people to my baby shower?"

"Ninety-two, to be exact, I never knew we all knew so many people. Friends from Hogwarts, the gang, Luna's dad, Ginny's family, Blaise, Ginny's Quidditch team, co-workers from St. Mungo's, the Patil twins, Slughorn and McGonagall and Hagrid, Daphne, Anne…it's going to be one large classy party."

I just throw my hands up, conceding. Pansy can do whatever she wants; I have enough to worry about as is.

Ginny chuckles, "Sounds like a plan."

So we all get dressed and head out.

Ginny and Pansy pick out bridesmaid dresses, Harry owls all the invitations and runs a couple of errands, and Draco and I find the perfect white crib for my nursery with a matching changing table and rocking chair. Since I decided to move in with him last week after talking it over with my friends and Anne, we agree that my nursery will be the one we have for the new house. Draco arranges the shipping of our purchase and I buy the perfect "coming home" outfit.

We meet up with Pansy, Ginny, and Harry for an animated lunch where Pansy shows us pictures of her in different bridesmaid dresses, I show off the outfit, and Harry and Draco talk amongst themselves because they're bored with our girly chatter. Luna joins us.

After lunch, I go with Ginny and Harry to meet with their wedding planner at the cake shop where we taste-test cakes for about an hour, which quenches my sweet tooth. Draco and Luna go with Pansy to pick out decorations. Apparently, she knows exactly what she wants because they come into the cake shop halfway through the testing, Pansy claiming that everything is done. Draco looks bored and Luna looks dreamy.

As soon as Ginny orders the cake she likes best, we all head over to the new house, to check on progress. It's come a long way since I've seen it last and the designer is on site and Blaise too, probably to see the house.

The designer, Ken, takes us all through the house, showing off new polished wooden floors in the foyer and the new carpet in the family room and the new floor in the kitchen. There are men painting the walls, replacing the stove and other kitchen accessories, workers rebuilding the deck in the backyard I didn't even know about and making sure the bricks on the house are secure, and men re-tiling all the bathrooms and replacing the tub in one of them. I don't want to change much in the house, it's a classic and it's beautiful as is, but I do want to update the things that need to be updated.

It's the first time they've all seen the house and Pansy looks as in awe as I did the first night he brought me here.

Ginny and Harry are talking to the designer, setting up a meeting. Pansy and Luna are looking around in the spacious nursery. Blaise is standing next to me in the master bedroom, silently looking out the same window, down at the men fixing the deck. I don't know where Draco is; probably downstairs making sure everything is coming along perfectly.

I yawn, feeling myself lose more and more energy as I stand here. The icing on the cake has given me indigestion and I have heartburn from the sandwich I ate at lunch. My feet are a bit achy, but that's to be expected for someone who is just over eight months pregnant.

"You know," Blaise speaks up, "He really does love you, Hermione. He has…for a long time. He's loyal to you."

I look over at him, a bit stunned at his words.

Blaise is a bit protective of Draco, always has been, not because he has some underlying homosexual feelings for him, not even close.

Draco is his best friend, they were practically raised together, and they're almost like brothers. I never even realized how close they were. I always thought of Draco as a bit of a loner, who only surrounds himself with subordinates, like Crabbe and Goyle, to make himself seem more superior, but I was wrong about that too.

Blaise has always been there, even through school.

He suggested Draco find me and talk to me after the party, tell me how he really feels, which led to that horrible scene in the coffee shop. Blaise was the one he went to the night he found out I was pregnant. He suggested that when he calmed down, go back and talk to me. I guess the accident happened before he calmed down. The first one he told that I was keeping it. The only friend Draco has ever introduced me to.

As he speaks, I understand what he's doing and I'm surprised this conversation didn't happen sooner. Blaise doesn't want to see his best friend get hurt and he's going to see to it that it doesn't happen. I would do the same for Harry or Ron or Ginny or Pansy or Luna in a heartbeat. He's as fiercely protective of his best friend as I am of mine.

"I know he does," even though he hasn't technically said "I love you."

"Do you love him?"

"Blaise," I start with a sigh, "I think I've been in love with Draco for the last three years and convinced myself it was just a little crush because I was so scared to admit it and put myself in a vulnerable position by being in love with a man who will never love you back."

"He did, at least that's what I gathered."

"Gather all you want, you know him better than I do, Blaise. He didn't say a word, he didn't tell me, didn't even hint at it, and I was frightened. That's when I started training to become a healer. You know as well as I do that Draco Malfoy is not the most _direct_ man alive. I didn't completely know where I stood with him until five weeks ago."

Blaise's shoulders shake when he chuckles, "Finally chalked up and told you, huh?"

I smile, "Yes and it's about bloody time too. I think…I think I understand him more now. I think I get why he didn't open up to me. I think he was as unsure of my feelings as I was of his and didn't want to put himself in a vulnerable position either. But I think if we communicate more, which we're working on, I don't think we'll have these misunderstandings."

We stand in silence for a few minutes.

I speak up carefully, "I understand that you are protective of your best friend, but you don't have to worry about me hurting him or using him or being unfaithful. I'm loyal to him. I have been for the last three years."

He smiles, "I know you are…I just have to make sure."

"I understand. I'd do the same for any of my friends."

We fall into another silence and I, with a moderate amount of difficulty, pick up my bottle of water. Blaise helps me stand up right and I thank him with a smile, "I feel like my center of gravity is off." The baby starts kicking, letting me know she's awake and I rest my hand on my stomach, "Let's not even talk about the kicking."

He chuckles, "Yeah, I bet, but it won't be too long now."

"Nope, about a month," I grin excitedly, "Monday is my last day at St. Mungo's before I go on leave. I think Draco's taking the time off too so he can help me out."

"Yeah, he is…leaving everything to me for four months."

My brows furrow, "I didn't know he was taking that long off."

I'm only taking three months off and it's back to work.

"He is. I think he wants to—"

Blaise is interrupted by Pansy and Luna emergence from the nursery, both all in grins, "Hermione, this house is gorgeous. I'm going to visit everyday when you move in. It's the perfect little family home…maybe with three more kids—"

This time I do choke on my water.

Blaise pats my back, laughing, "No way!" I exclaim once I recover, "Don't even wish that on me. I'm scared enough just thinking about being a mum to one baby, let's not throw three more in the mix."

Pansy and Luna just giggle and walk out, arm-in-arm. I just look at Blaise and shake my head.

Draco walks in the room minutes later and I detect a small and quick eye-conversation between him and Blaise before he looks at me, "Are you ready to go?"

I nod, yawning suddenly, "Yeah, I'm a bit tired."

Not to mention achy, I've got serious heartburn going on right now, and my feet hurt.

"You can nap before dinner; everyone's coming to the manor. Pansy wants to pick a room for the shower and Ginny wants to look at the garden so we're all going back to your flat so we can floo there."

I just nod, yawn, and let Draco take my hand and lead me out to the car.

He's talking about the house as he drives back to my flat, telling me that it's probably going to be finished the week before the wedding. Then he starts his argument for why Blaise should be godfather, and as I listen, I feel my eyes getting heavier.

The drive only takes five minutes, but I'm asleep before we get there.

I wake hours later in Draco's bed on my left side, the side the baby prefers, with a pillow between my legs to alleviate the pressure on my back. Immediately, I know Draco is the one who put me in bed. He's really attuned to my needs. I stretch, move the pillow, and sit up.

"Miss. Granger," a small voice speaks. I look down and there is a house elf standing there. I think her name is Pinky and she's smiling at me, "Master sends me to fetch you for dinner. Master knows Miss. Granger gets lost and wants Pinky to make sure she doesn't."

I get out of bed slowly, "Thanks Pinky. Will you wait while I freshen up?"

She nods eagerly and I set off to the bathroom to brush my hair that's grown considerably in the last couple of months back into a ponytail, brush my teeth, and wash my face. When I emerge, Pinky is waiting for me.

"Come, Miss. Granger, dinner will soon be served."

I follow the house elf for at least five minutes before we find everyone in one of the dining room. I thank Pinky and approach everyone. Pansy and Ron are sitting at the table, talking softly to one another. Luna is laughing at Harry's joke. Ginny is looking around. Pinky disappears with a small crack.

Ginny notices me first, "Hermione! You're awake. You've been sleep for _hours_."

Draco looks over in the middle of his conversation with Blaise away from everyone else. He smirks and I smile back.

I approach her, "I was tired, Gin. Did you like the garden?"

She goes off on a tangent about how beautiful it is and how excited she is about the wedding. I stand there and listen, grinning and nodding to everything she says. She eventually slows down, "How are you feeling?"

I shrug, "Other than the foot on my ribcage, I'm good."

Ginny smiles and rubs my stomach, "Won't be too long now before we see who Little Lizzy looks more like. My bet is on Draco, but everyone else thinks she'll look more like you…though no one is willing to put money on it. I think they learned their lesson from the _"I am the champion"_ incident."

Chuckles, "I bet they did…well, I agree with you."

She suddenly gets a serious look about her, "I know that with the wedding and all, we haven't had much time—I mean, I haven't been much of a help—I feel like I've been selfish, not really thinking of you—"

I cut her off, "No, Ginny, you've _still_ been great. Who helps me get the last of the clothes out the laundry basket when I can't reach? Who makes sure I'm eating healthy? Who spent the entire afternoon baby-proofing our flat? And who cheers me up when I'm an emotional basket-case? You, Gin. You've been with me since the seventeen pregnancy test debacle. You held my hair back when I had morning sickness. You're the first person who said they were on my side, no matter what I did. You came to me as fast as you could when I got in the accident. Ginny, you're a great friend to me, you always have been and I appreciate you and love you very much. Now you're getting married and I want you to worry about your wedding, it's the most important and anticipated day of your life and there's no one on Earth who deserves it more."

Tears fill her eyes, "Oh, Hermione!" she throws her arms around my neck, hugging me.

Harry looks over, concerned, but I shake my head, telling him there's nothing to worry about. I just hug her back and when she pulls away, I dry her eyes and smile.

"Is everything okay?"

My head jerks over to see Draco standing across the table, looking as confused as he is concerned.

"Yeah, everything's good…can we eat now?"

* * *

_I'll miss the winter, a world of fragile thing_

_Look for me in the white forest, _

_Hiding in a hollow tree (come find me)_

_I know you hear me_

_I can taste it in your tears... _

"_My Last Breath"—Evanescence_

_(Two days later: February 10__th)_

The next time I walk these halls, I'll be a mum.

And that's what's been keeping a smile on my face all day.

It's been a really good day. This morning Draco and I finally settled the fight about godparents. Why do babies need just one godmother and godfather, when three godfathers and three godmothers are more effective? Three is better than one, and no matter how many lessons Draco and I teach, it's always better to have some outside influence.

She'll learn different lessons from all of them. From Ginny, she'll learn that no matter what, she must always be true to herself. From Pansy she'll learn that it's okay to be strong and dainty at the same time. From Luna she'll learn to see outside the box. From Harry she'll gain the appreciation of life. From Ron she'll learn to cut loose and just how fun it is. From Blaise, she'll learn loyalty and how to be a good friend.

See, it makes sense to have more than two godparents because each of them brings something different to the table.

Well after coming to that agreement, I go to work. A bunch of healers, Grant included, bought me an enchanted stroller that adjusts based on temperature and size of the baby. It also has a protective charm around it that blocks out anyone who wishes to harm the baby in any way. It's apparently the first and last stroller I'll ever buy and looks just like a regular muggle stroller.

We have cake and ice-cream, Pansy invites them all to the baby shower at the manor, we laugh about the "Bogies incident", much to Grant's chagrin, and I set off for my last set of rounds, which take almost no time to complete.

Half an hour later, I'm sitting in the break room, sitting on the couch and resting my feet after the walk. All is quiet and it will remain this way for the next couple of hours.

Pansy is supposed to meet me here on her break so she can fill me in on her plans for the baby shower, but she's late, as per usual. Ron stopped by the hospital and brought her a dozen orange tulips in the middle of the party and she went with him to coffee, blushing like mad amidst cat calls and wolf-whistles from the healers.

I smile everytime I think about it.

The door opens and my head whirls around to see Draco's assistant, Ellis, standing in the door with a smile. She's an older lady, maybe in her early fifties, with a motherly look about her and she greets me warmly, we've gotten a bit close with the passing months of cookie deliveries.

I struggle to get up to greet her, but she shakes her head and replies with a bit of a chuckle, "Oh, sweet Merlin, no child, don't get up. I'll come to you." And she does, with a small bag. She hands it to me and rubs my belly, "You look pretty as always, Hermione."

Waving her off modestly, I find myself smiling anyway, "No, no, I feel like a whale."

"Now, I've seen a lot of pregnant girls. I have four kids and nine grandbabies and there is no way you look like a whale. Why I've never seen a more beautiful, glowing pregnant woman…and that's saying a lot."

I grin. She always makes me feel better about myself, "Well, thanks Ellis."

"I hope you bring baby Lizzy by the office to let me see her."

"Oh, most definitely…are you coming to the shower next week?"

"Yes, I got the owl this morning. Looks extravagant."

Laughs, "Well, that's what happens when you let Pansy Parkinson plan an event."

She laughs with me and watches me open the bag, "Apparently…well, this is sadly the last cookie I have to bring. You, my dear, are a dream. I hope you and Mr. Malfoy decide to have another baby so I can bring cookies to you again."

My smile brightens as I shake my head, chuckling, "Oh, no…no more kids, not for a long while."

Ellis smiles, gives me a motherly kiss on the cheek, and I watch her leave. I sigh, shake my head, and open the bag. The peanut butter cookie is warm, just like always, and I take a bite of it, savoring. Oh, sweet Merlin, it's amazing. I haven't had one since Friday when she brought the last one. She started making them from scratch for me when we had our first conversation and uses a charm to keep them warm until she brings it to me. They are just _amazing_.

"Well," a familiar voice speaks up from the doorway, "I thought she'd never leave."

_You've got to be fucking kidding me?_

My eyes dart to the source and there he is, standing in the doorway of the break room, looking poised, but definitely not calm. Theodore Nott. I get up suddenly and my back cries out in pain for my sudden movements. His eyes lock with mine before they travel down to my protruding stomach.

I snap my fingers, "What are you doing here? This break room is private."

"Well, _she_ was in here."

"_She_," I reply condescendingly, "has permission to be here, you don't."

His eyes fall on my stomach again, "I see you're looking ready to burst, even more so than the last time I saw you."

My muscles start to tense and I speak very coldly, "Is there a purpose to this visit other than to insult me? If not, I have things to do."

"I was just upstairs visiting my uncle when I saw you walk by. I just came down here to apologize for what I said that day in the coffee shop. I did not intend to provoke you to act in violence towards me."

"You don't have to apologize…it's just a waste of your breath. From the very moment I met you, Nott, you've treated me with disdain in one breath and called me your friend in the next. I don't know what's up with you, I don't know why you act the way you do, and I don't _care_, just stay away from me."

"I only acted that way because," he pauses and unfolds his arms, "I'm in love with you, Hermione Granger."

Reeling at his confession, I nearly scream, "What the _hell?_"

He repeats, "I love you."

"No you don't," I shake my head in disbelief. He's just saying this to rile me up.

Nott's voice rises with anger, "You can't tell me how I feel. You can't tell me that I don't love you. You can't tell me that I don't want to be with you. I do love you and I do want to be with you—"

"Well, you can't," I cut him off, "I'm with Draco and we're going to have a daughter together and I love him. I'm sorry if I led you to believe that we are more than what we really are, but we aren't. We are not friends, we are not anything, and I want _nothing_ to do with you."

"I thought you might say that."

Alarm bells go off in my head.

He takes a step towards me and I step back, bumping into the end table, making a vase of flowers tip over and shatter. The sound of shattering glass startles me, breaks my concentration for one second. And it only takes one second for him to bolt across the room towards me.

Pain shoots up my arm as he seizes me, "…but I think I can change your mind."

Trying to wrench away from him, I pull forcefully, but to no avail. He still has a firm grip on the sleeve of my healer robes. He's stronger than me, so much more than I ever anticipated, but the sleeve tears off.

With a startled shout, I drop to the floor between the couch and the coffee table on my side, my hand moving instinctively to my stomach and pain overwhelms my senses and I cry out in distress.

"You silly bint," Nott sneers as he gathers my feet in his hands in one fatal swoop and drags me and the coffee table I suddenly cling to in desperation. He doesn't stop when I'm clear of the couch, though I'm praying he will.

Nott drags me into the center of the room and I don't make it easy for him. I'm fighting, screaming, gripping onto everything I can get my hands on.

He won't stop. He won't let me go. I can feel the back of my robes raising, exposing my tender back. It immediately heats from the friction between the carpeted floor and my flesh. I can't help but cry out when it begins to burn, but he doesn't stop until he has successfully pulled me in the center of the room. I'm sure I have the worst carpet burn now, I feel it.

My fingers are swollen from gripping onto chairs and tables, having them torn from my grasp and my fingers being crushed between them. When he finally stops, I just lay there, stunned and sobbing in pain. It's like I'm paralyzed or something.

Nott stands directly over me and I try to mold myself to the floor, "Would you like to know my plan?" He sounds about as insane as he looks.

"I don't bloody care."

Before I can react, Nott takes a customary hold of my hair and yanks it so hard my neck snaps back and I can't bite back the scream. He pulls so hard it's amazing the hairs haven't ripped from my scalp. He just keeps pulling and pulling…he lifts me back on my feet by my hair, ignoring my screams of excruciating, burning pain. The terror and anguish in my voice is evident as it bounces off all four walls and I see it in his eyes that he likes to hear me scream from pain inflicted by him; it's like he gets some sort of twisted pleasure from it.

His grip relaxes and I grip my head where his hand was, crying.

"Do you feel like playing nice now?" when I say nothing, Nott proceeds, "You see, if there's no baby then you don't have to be with Malfoy…this baby is the only reason why you're with him, Hermione. You don't want him. You want to be with me. Don't deny it. I see it in your eyes. You want to start a life with me, bastard free. I can make that happen, you know. We could get married and have children of our own. We just need to get _this_ one out the way."

I just stare at him with wide eyes, stunned and in complete mind-numbing shock. I don't even know what he's talking about. I don't want him and I'll be _damned_ if he hurts my daughter, "You're insane!"

Not the ideal thing to say to someone who just dragged you forty feet across a room.

I learn this lesson very quickly.

Never, for a moment, do I see his hand rise, but his grip tightens again on my hair and I feel his hand when it comes into contact with my face, causing my head to snap to the side and a couple of hairs finally rip from my scalp as I fall back to the ground, again on my side. The stinging is almost unreal and the salty taste of my own blood has already reached my tongue.

The pain has barely begun to take its real effect before I feel his hot, ragged breath on me.

"You're doing this to yourself, Hermione. If you weren't so beautiful and stubborn you wouldn't make me so angry. Or are you stupid enough to make me want to hit you?"

I just lay there, almost broken and moaning in pain, completely terrified.

When I don't answer, he drops to his knees and proceeds to try and shake the answer out. My head slams forcefully into the floor repeatedly, my vision blurs, but comes back clear when he stops and attaches his lips to my neck.

Lustful, "Is _this_ what you want?"

A type of panic I haven't felt in years seizes me and I start to fight and cry, all at the same time. This begins the wrestling match. He goes for the buttons of my robe and I elbow him in the face, hard. He shouts and cowers to the floor next to me.

I need to get out of here…and that's just what I attempt to do.

I get to my feet and try to run, but he grabs a hold of my ankle and the only reason I don't land on my stomach is because I use my hands to break my fall.

I feel the bones in my finger crunch, but there are more concerns on my mind right now.

Like…how to stay alive.

In a rage, Nott crawls over to me and grabs a hold of my hair again and pulls us both to our feet, me screaming because he's pulling so hard, and him cursing. I can't believe the burning, throbbing agony my body is still in, but I still fight, clawing the hell out of his cheek with my nails when I see the opportunity.

This time, I see his fist rise, and I close my eyes as if to shield myself from the pain I'm about to experience. The blow, as expected, goes without mercy, he's putting everything into it, all his anger, all his hate, everything.

And he doesn't stop.

No matter how hard I fight. No matter how loud I scream. He won't stop. Punches and kicks come from all around me. All I can do is curl into a tight ball and keep her safe, but it's not enough. He's relentless and it's so easy to just give up. I'm so tired that I can. I am at his complete mercy and I know there is nothing I can do to stop him. I don't know how long he beats me, but when it stops, Nott is on his hands and knees, heaving in breaths and talking to himself.

I uncurl from fetal position without making any sound.

Coughing a couple of times, I see a few drops of my blood fall on the carpet, landing in perfect circular shape. I stare at it, ignoring the pain and the anguished kicking of the baby for an instant to study the drops, fascinated by how red they are. More drops spill form my nose and mouth. Soon enough, there is a nice stain.

I don't get to see them too long, out of nowhere, his hand grips my head again to pull me up. I'm under the impression Nott is going to preach to me some more about how this is my fault, but the instant I'm on my feet he holds tightly onto my shoulder and punches me right in the side of my stomach. In a panicked heap, I fall back to the floor; my head hits it with a loud thud.

I just lay there, she's still kicking, softer now, but I'm trying to fight the multicolored flashes out of my vision.

I think…I think I'm dying.

And as the kicking fades to a few thumps, I think we both are.

I cough again, more blood spills from my mouth, and I touch the back of my head where this throbbing pain and is and draw back blood. I go to wipe it off on my robes when something sticks me in the shoulder.

It's my wand.

Nott moves and I hold my breath, daring not to move one muscle.

He's talking to himself, shaking and berating himself.

I've never seen a more frightening sight.

And with revitalized strength, I whip out my wand, point, and shout the first spell I can think of, "_Stupefy!_"

The red beam hits him square in the head and he collapses.

I think about sending a messenger patronus, but I'm far too weak to channel any happy thoughts right now.

So instead I grip my bleeding and swollen fingers into the carpet as best I can, and I use all my strength to scoot away from him, scrunching my face in pain as I do so. As I drag myself back across the room, carpet burns set my skin afire, but I keep going.

I feel like I weigh six hundred pounds, the pain from everything weighs me down.

Each movement causes intense agony for me, but I try to push it all away and get to safety. I think I'm still in shock, I don't think the trauma my body and my baby have gone though has fully registered. My mind is erratic with useless thoughts and all I can focus on is safety.

Finally, I make it to the door of the break room and I force myself into a sitting position to reach the doorknob. There is a trail of blood that mars the clean carpet. I check all over, but I already know where it's coming from. The baby. We're losing this fight. The both of us are.

The blood is staining my pants and I start to panic.

The pulling open of this door is some of the worst torture I've ever experienced and as soon as it opens, I rest on the ground.

I can't do this anymore. I just can't.

But then I hear it.

I hear the sound of her heels before I see her and my body relaxes.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry I'm—oh my God!"

Pansy's face is blurred, but becomes a little clearer when she drops to her knees, not by much. She's screaming for help, shaking me, calling my name desperately, but I feel myself fading and there's nothing I can do. I've done all I can to get to this point.

She holds my head; I feel her tears dripping on my face. She grabs my wand from my hand and she sends a messenger patronus, to who? I don't know. Her voice is frantic, she's discovered the blood; I can no longer see her face, but I hear the terror and I feel her hands shaking, "Hermione!" Pansy takes a few breaths to keep calm, but I don't think its working, "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me."

I try to listen, I try to focus on her, but I can't. I try to focus on the slightly kicking baby, but I can't.

I just squeeze her hand.

Her sobs break my heart, "Someone is coming. I need you to hold on, okay?"

I squeeze her hand again.

I'm just happy she found me. I'm just happy the baby is kicking, even a little bit.

But…me? I'm so tired…just so tired.

Pansy does little to assuage my pain, she instead, pulls me out into the hallway, grunting and straining as she does so.

In the bright lights of the hall, she sees just how bad it is and it sends her whirling back into panic mode. She's hysterical when she drops down on her knees again, holding my neck firm, "Hermione! There's so much blood! I don't know what to do!"

Her voice sounds terrified and she's crying as she screams for someone to help. I hear feet. Voices. Panicked screams.

She tries to smack me to keep me awake, but everything is getting darker anyway. All I can do right now is pray. I'm not religious, not even the slightest bit, but I pray. I don't pray for me, I pray for Elizabeth. I pray that she makes it, I pray that she gets to take her first breath, I pray so hard tears fall.

And when I'm finished praying, I use the rest of my strength to pull Pansy to me and with labored breathing, I tell her probably the most important thing I've ever told her, "Tell Draco to—" I start coughing, turning my head, I see the blood on the white floor.

Before I can focus on it, Pansy turns my head and I stare at her blurry form, "Tell Draco what, Hermione?"

"Save her first."

With that said; I stop fighting and welcome the clouds, waiting for them to engulf me from all sides. I vaguely feel someone lift me off the floor in the back of my mind and exhale.

Finally the pain stops, and I'm at peace.

**A/N: I was going to stop right here, but I am a nice person.**

* * *

_Fully alive, more than most,_

_Ready to smile and love life_

_Fully alive and she knows how to believe in futures_

_All my complaints shrink to nothing_

_I'm ashamed of all my somethings_

_She's glad for one day of comfort...only because she has suffered. _

"_Fully Alive"—Flyleaf_

_(Two days later: February 12__th)_

I've made a huge mistake and I wonder if there is time to take it back.

Do you know what I've failed to do? No? Well, I can't say I'm surprised.

Initially, I don't know either and I realize that I'm just like everyone else, just like the nameless person next to me, just like you. We have different stories, personalities, faces, lifestyles, blood…but ultimately the same opinions about life. Neither of us knows the answer to this question, but unlike everyone, I think I do.

So, again I ask…what have we all failed to do? Still don't know? I'm still not surprised.

We all have been making this mistake over and over, unknowingly. We spend our entire lives just scarcely missing out on the answer. We spend our entire lives not caring because there's always time left to care…or so we think.

Life, as we all know, doesn't last forever. We take it, life, for granted…well, that is, until you're too close to death to start caring. Until you're too close to the end to start wondering…so you must have an idea yet…no?

Okay, so I'll tell you. Our biggest mistake is never really noticing the magic that still lies in each day of our lives. We never really appreciate the simple gift of being alive. It's our greatest miracle, our most beautiful gift, one that may don't deserve, and many take for granted. Even at my best, I never really did understand the gift. Now, I think I do.

Isn't it ironic that people don't understand the miracle of life until it begins to fade…until it's gone?

We never understand the simple things, nor do we pay attention to them. We miss the joys of a stunning sunset and sunrise, the magic of a song, the fun in dancing in the rain, the joy of catching snowflakes on your tongue or fireflies in the summer, the budding of wildflowers, the wisdom of youth, the power of love, the nativity of age, the emotions in a voice…the familiarity of a touch.

Life gives us these incredible gifts and the real tragedy of it is the very same mistake I've made.

I've never noticed the gift life has given me. I've spent my life working, getting ahead, running, fighting, and focusing on everything except what's really important. In doing this, I've held this gift in my hand and never used it. I've never lived.

It's like holding a priceless gem in your hand and not ever knowing it's in your hand until the moment you die.

It's a waste.

Not to sound all philosophical, but life is worth more than all the gems in the world.

My life thus far has been my gift for the past twenty-two years, though I don't really think so until recently. It's been a pain sometimes, I've had some rough times, I've lost people who were close, I've had really unfair things happen to me, but I wouldn't change my life for anything because I've done good too.

Though there was a time in my life when I didn't think I would ever get to this point. Now I feel blessed to be here.

I would've missed out on so much.

It's funny.

Most would say that at twenty-two my life hasn't begun.

But I know something most people don't. I've seen more magic in my years than people three times my age, but I've seen so much more pain, enough to last a lifetime. I know, more so now, that there is a tiny miracle in being alive.

I've neglected it so long, but with my second chance, I won't neglect it ever again…

As my eyes start to open, someone says, "Welcome back to the world, Miss. Granger, you gave us a right fine scare there."

Eyes.

All I see are blue eyes…blue eyes that belong to the squib doctor who practices muggle medicine we keep on staff here, in the event of emergencies. Dr. Davenport. With a quick scan, I don't see anyone familiar. All I see are his eyes set on his concerned face.

My breathing becomes labored, panicked even, but before I venture any further down this path toward a full-blown panic attack, he opens my mouth and tips my chin and one drop of strong calming potion does the job quickly.

I feel myself relax almost instantly.

"There is no need to panic, Miss. Granger," he informs, "You are safe and so is your daughter…delivered her myself two days ago. She's premature, only four pounds at birth, and she had two broken arms, a broken leg, and collarbone from the attack, but she's been healed and is under constant vigilant watch by your friend Miss. Lovegood and Mrs. Weasley. I must say Elizabeth was a loud little thing; she nearly startled me and Mr. Malfoy when she started screaming. Who knew that so much noise could come from a baby so tiny?" Dr. Davenport chuckles.

I don't think I can convey the feelings running through me at this exact moment. I'm happy about the fact that she's safe and healed, blessed that we both made it out of there, confused about a lot of things, sad that I couldn't carry her to term and deliver her the normal way to ensure her safety, worried about my friends, desperate to see a familiar face, and very overwhelmed by everything. I want to cry, but I can't thanks to the potion.

I have a daughter, a _real_ daughter, who screams really loud, has met her father, and has a birthday…and I get to see every one of them. Amazed and internally emotional, I let his words run through my brain and then I screw my face up in confusion.

Weakly, I ask, "Draco was there?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy arrived on the scene three minutes after the found you with Ginny Weasley. He and Ginny were present for the birth, but he stayed on with you while they healed all your broken bones and the internal bleeding and other traumas…he's only leaves your side to check on the baby—"

"Can I go see my daughter? Where are my friends? Where's Anne? I—"

He calms me with a touch on my shoulder, "One question at a time. You can see your daughter, but I have to examine you out before I can take you there. As for your friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter are outside the door. Pansy Parkinson is with them. Ginny Weasley is with Mr. Malfoy, Anne Granger, George Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, looking after your daughter."

Slightly impatient, I let him help me out of bed and into slippers and a robe Draco must've had delivered here. As soon as I'm nice and warm, I do a series of simple exercises.

Walk across the room forwards and backwards. Lift my arms in various angles. Read a passage. Memorize colors and phrases and repeat later. Touch my finger to my nose. Perform a spell with my wand Pansy retrieved. Bend over and touch my toes. I do them all with ease. It's like nothing that afternoon happened, no broken fingers, no nothing, the only thing I have left to remind me is a patch of missing hair in the center of my head, a slew of bruises, and a faint Cesarean scar magic can't heal. My face looks normal, despite the bruising, and aside from a mild headache, I feel good and a bit tired.

Still he makes me sit in a wheelchair, but I roll myself out. Immediately, I'm faced with three very concerned friends.

"_Hermione!_" They all push off the wall and take turns hugging me. Ron first, Harry second, Pansy last.

Pansy's is the longest, because neither of us will let go.

Aside from my daughter and Draco, I'm happiest to see her. She's crying softly on me and if I could, I'd be crying right along with her. I know I scared her to death. I remember her sounding helpless and terrified. I owe a lot to her and I'm guessing I can credit Draco's hasty arrival to her patronus.

When she pulls away finally, I wipe her eyes, "You did well, Pans. Thank you so much."

Wordlessly, she nods and before Dr. Davenport and take the handle of the wheelchair, Pansy grabs it, "I got it."

He points us in the direction and walks down the hall.

Ron and Harry tell me everything they know about that day on our way to the nursery, while Pansy remains silent. They said that once they enervated Nott, he started singing like a songbird, confessing everything, "He admitted to following you for months after that day at Hogwarts and he was lying about having an uncle in the hospital…he sounded insane, talking to himself and whatnot. He admitted his plans of how he was going to modify your memory once you were knocked out and kill the baby once she was born. They immediately locked him in Azkaban. There probably won't be a trial, everyone is outraged…someone snuck in and took a few pictures of the scene after they carried you away. I think they want to give him the kiss." Harry informs.

I'm just reeling from everything. I was being stalked and I didn't even know it. I feel kind of stupid.

But it's over now and there's no need to dwell.

"Malfoy was a mess," Ron starts slowly and I look up at him, confused, "I've never sympathized for him, but I did that day. He had a tough decision to make and almost no time to make it in, listen to your wishes or ignore them."

"What did he do?"

"He listened to you." Pansy replies solemnly.

All is silent for a moment and I reflect. I'm glad things worked out and if I had the chance to do it all over again, I would still choose to save the baby over me.

"I don't think he's slept since it all happened," Ron informs, "He's kind of been on auto-pilot and thank Merlin Blaise was here initially because one of the healers, Grant, I think, snapped on him and told him to leave once Elizabeth was born. I know Grant was worried, but he didn't have to be rude…but I thought Malfoy was going to use an unforgivable. Luckily for them, he couldn't have a wand in there."

I can't imagine Draco Malfoy in any other state other than calm so to hear Ron tell me all this is astonishing.

There is a small crowd outside the private nursery Elizabeth is in and the next few minutes are a blur.

Anne sees me first and rushes down the hall to me, hugging me close. The moment Anne steps aside, Ginny roughly pushes her way through everyone and damn near launches herself at me. Pansy has to stop the wheelchair from rolling back. She's crying and I'm close to tears myself, feeling the calming potion start to wear off. Mr. Weasley hugs me next and tells me I gave them all a right scare and George says he knew all along I wouldn't die. Luna is the one who helps me out the wheelchair and gives me a big hug. Mrs. Weasley is next and she's doting on me, making sure I'm really fine and telling me what a beautiful baby girl I have.

But then they step aside and my heart starts to race when I look up to see Draco standing just outside the nursery. His eyes are unreadable, he looks exhausted and slightly haggard, and he's in hospital robes; the love I have for this man swells to the breaking point.

When Draco wraps his arms around me, I don't think any amount of calming potion can keep me from breaking down in tears. That morning easily could've been the last time I ever saw him and as his grip on me tightens, I think he realizes it too. Draco grips my shoulders gently and leans in, kissing me tenderly, soft lips move over mine with love and affection. I return the kiss with equal tenderness, tears running down my cheeks.

I need this and him, but I think we need each other more than ever.

He whispers, "I love you," in my ear and the sincerity in his voice makes me sob in his chest.

I love you.

There is such strength in these small words; three words, eight letters, three syllables.

But I don't understand it. How can such small words be used to describe the emotion that takes over my heart, body, soul, and life every moment of every day? The words are so tiny and simple yet so complicated and attached to so many other unspoken words. Underneath the words lay promises of not only the future, but here and now. Beneath the words lay the reason why each of our moments together is so special and fulfilling. Below the words lay the truth: what we have isn't just something that'll fizzle out tomorrow, what we have is something that'll last a lifetime.

It's been so hard for us to say, yet so easy for him to let the words roll off his tongue now. I don't ask why he loves me, I just know, and if he never speaks these three words again, I'll be content with hearing them today. You see, a love like ours, it doesn't need fancy words or elaborate details. I don't need flowers and cards and candy to know that he loves me. I don't need anything to see the love in his eyes. I don't even need to hear him say it because no matter how guarded he is I already know how he feels.

All we really need is each other and our baby and the time we have together. Draco and I don't ask for more than that nor do we expect more, we don't expect anything. We don't have a plan, we simply live in what we've got right now; feeling and sometimes speaking these three little words that say everything that we can't say, everything that really matters.

* * *

_ I hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain_

_Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place that as a child I'd hide_

_And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by_

_"Sweet Child O' Mine"--Sheryl Crow (I like her version better) _

_(Hours later)_

Four pounds.

Eight ounces.

Sixteen inches long.

Ten fingers.

Ten toes.

A head full of blonde hair.

Perfection.

Elizabeth Dracen Malfoy is so tiny and so beautiful and I'm amazed at the simple fact that something so precious can be conceived from two people so chaotic and dysfunctional.

I'm instantly captivated by her and I instantly love her and know I will for the rest of my life and even beyond.

How can you love someone you've never met? How is it I'm willing to die to save someone I don't know? That I care for her life more than I care for my own? It's very possible, it's very real, and I now better understand a mother's love because I will do anything, _anything_ to see to it that she lives a happy life and wants for nothing. I want the best for her and I am willing to sacrifice myself in order to make it happen.

And judging from the look on Draco's face, I can tell he feels the same way.

I can't stop staring while he holds her. It's the first time either of us has had permission to hold her since I woke up. She's sleeping peacefully in his arms, like a little angel. Draco looks at her like she is the most important person in his life. He holds her like a porcelain doll. He is attached. She's two days old and she has him wrapped around her tiny little fist.

Draco is confident when he holds her; he's held her a lot and I patiently, okay, semi-patiently wait my turn. She's no longer than his forearm and the thick blanket Mrs. Weasley knitted for her makes her look smaller than she is.

I look up at him, only to find him watching me carefully, "Do you want to hold her?"

Merlin yes!

When he gently places her in my arms, minding her head, I'm besieged with feelings. This is our baby. Our pride and joy. I can't believe that for one second I thought about getting rid of this perfect little baby.

I'm so happy right now; I don't think I can properly describe the absolute joy and pride I feel right now.

Lizzie starts to stir some and then opens her left eye slowly, almost curiously, and kind of grunts softly in that way babies do. Her eyes are grey and I'm not surprised. Just about all Malfoys' have grey eyes, apparently, no matter what color eyes the mothers have. They fit her nicely, but nature always has a way of knowing what looks best.

I find myself smiling when Draco says, "That's the first time she's opened her eyes."

And then they close.

The medi-witch comes in to feed her, but I ask her if I can do it instead. It takes a while, but with some coaching and assistance, I get used to it and so does Elizabeth. She's a fast learner…so am I. Draco just watches it all transpire in a silent amazement. After burping her, watching Draco clumsily change her for practice, and holding her just a while longer, she falls asleep and I hand her to the medi-witch and watch her lay Lizzie in the incubator.

I sit on the chair next to the incubator and just watch her sleep.

She's going to be here for a month and I can't stand the thought of leaving here tomorrow without her.

Draco touches my shoulder, "You should be getting back to bed."

My eyes are transfixed on her, "No, not yet."

"You need rest."

I know he's right, "Just a little longer?"

"Okay."

We sit in a comfortable silence, just watching Elizabeth's chest rise and fall with each rapid breath she takes.

February 10th.

The day my life _really_ began.

I'm looking forward to every day. I'm looking forward to watching Elizabeth grow, develop, crawl, walk, speak her first words, read her first book, and write her name for the first time, her first time on platform 9 and ¾ …birthdays and Christmas and holidays and holding her and loving her. I'm looking forward to being with Draco, waking up to him, making love to him, letting our relationship mature and develop, and maybe one day even I'll even marry him. I'm looking forward to spending time with my friends, laughing with them, joking with them, watching them spoil Elizabeth. I'm looking forward to everything and to living my life, appreciating the little things.

And it starts right now.

I'm falling asleep in my chair when Draco finally coaxes me to leave.

Exhausted from today's excitement, he has to carry me back to my room and lay me in bed.

He's about to grab his jacket and settle in the chair next to the bed when I stop him, "Lay here with me."

I scoot to make room for him. I don't know how we're going to make this work, but I don't want him far.

Draco's eyes soften. He takes off his shoes. I draw back the blanket. He grabs an extra one and spreads it out. I scoot until my back touches the bar. He climbs in tentatively and relaxes, wrapping his arms around me. I pull the covers over us.

As I doze, he watches me with concern.

My lips rest gently on his head and I whisper, "_Sleep_. You need it more than I do."

It takes about a second for him to comply.


	14. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling does.

Author's Note: Wow, thanks for the spectacular reviews. I'm glad the scene touched you as it did me. The birth was supposed to be a funny affair, but then I got to writing on this chapter and I figured there had to be a last stand with Nott...and this his how the attack was born. When I make someone a villain, I _do_ go all out. I spent like two days writing that scene alone. It was brutal because I could picture it in my head and it was a lot more violent than that, but my cousin who read it was in full-fledged tears so I cut the more gruesome parts out. On to a lighter note, Lizzie is here! Yay! There are maybe three or four more chapters left. I'm not totally sure and I haven't planned them yet, but I'm pushing for four, we have a lot of holes to close up: Hermione's dad, Pansy's classy baby shower, Ginny and Harry's wedding, confrontations, the proposal between Draco and Hermione, and some other things. I made the beginning of this chapter a little scattered because as a new mum, Hermione's mind is slightly scattered.

And now on to the chapter. I hope you all enjoy it and smile as much as I did when I re-read the parts about Lizzie. Happy reading and as always, please review. Peace!

Oh, and there is a smut alert (sorta) towards the end of part 2. It's not that serious, but I feel I should warn.

* * *

_Fathers, be good to your daughters  
Daughters will love like you do  
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers  
So mothers, be good to your daughters too_  
"_Daughters"—John Mayer_

_(Four months later: June 12__th)_

Boy do we have some catching up to do.

**Two weeks after birth: **Lizzie gets to come home because she's put on two pounds and is developing rapidly, not to mention photographers are constantly trying to sneak in and take pictures of her, which is something I find frightening.

Oh yes, Lizzie is a famous baby because of the attack on me, how she was born, and because she's a Malfoy. Some say she's the most famous baby since Harry. I wish she weren't. I don't like the fact that people are willing to use my daughter's face to make money. It's disturbing.

The last straw is when a photographer nearly knocks her incubator over trying to capture a close-up picture of her sleeping. If you think the "Baby Ruth incident" was bad, then you can scarcely imagine how I react when I literally have to levitate a incubator to protect a sleeping baby, who did not remain asleep long after…oh, it makes my blood boil everytime I think about it.

Anyways, everyone is at the flat to welcome her home, but right after Draco takes her out the carrier, she throws up on him. He-he. Draco doesn't find it as hilarious as Ron and I, and glowers at the both of us.

Lizzie gets me back for laughing at her daddy by throwing up on me later on that night.

Damn.

I just purchased a baby scale, much to Draco's utmost dismay. I'm going to chronicle her weight gain.

Lizzie is six pounds even, is sixteen inches long…and is quite the little puke-monster.

**The next four days of hell:** I don't get the _wonderful_ (and I do mean this sarcastically) opportunity to experience the "famous Lizzie cry" Dr. Davenport, Draco, and the medi-witches who take care of her warn me about until the first night we bring her home…where she proceeds to give me, Ginny, Luna and Pansy (who stay the night to help) a full demonstration every four hours.

Oh, Merlin, these are the worst four days of my life.

The first two, we all take turns attending to her, rotating and trying to get some sleep in between because when she starts, no one can really sleep. Except for Ginny, who sleeps like the dead anyway. Who knew a six pound baby could cry so loud?

Cry, sleep, feed, and poop; that's all she does for two solid days, not in any particular order.

I really think we're all going mad by afternoon two, that is, until Anne shows up. With a slew of nieces and nephews, she has a lot of experience on the matter and helps when we need her most…but even her eyes widen the first time she hears Lizzie scream. Anne brings some kind of order, tells me that soon I need to get Lizzie on a sleeping schedule, but for now, we have to abide by her schedule. She teaches me how to use the breast pump she bought me, she sends Pansy home to recuperate and Ginny to Harry's because we, as parents, need to build trust with our baby, meaning _we_ have to attend to every one of her needs.

Pansy comes to visit on the third afternoon and brings charmed earplugs for us all to wear during her screaming fits, but it's too late, I'm sure Draco and I have lost a bit of our hearing. It takes the rest of that day, and most of the next, for me and Draco to think of methods to reduce the amount of screaming, some we find out by mere coincidence and some are advised to us by Anne, via phone.

Rocking, playing a little classical music, heartbeats, talking to her, rubbing her back…all of this works, much to our relief.

At the end of the "four days of hell" fiasco, Lizzie is six pounds, two ounces, still sixteen inches long…and when I weigh her, I see Lizzie and her daddy yawn the exact same way at the exact same time. It brings a smile to my face.

**The following two weeks:** The three of us hardly leave the flat following the four days of hell because we're bonding; it's a form of self-imposed hibernation. Ginny is at Harry's, planning the wedding. Pansy's mum is sick and she's been at the Parkinson mansion. Luna's been busy playing referee to Harry and Ginny. Ron's been sulking without Pansy here and I don't need his sighs and longing looks. The only two people we let in are Mrs. Weasley and Anne. We use the hour or so they play with and dote on Lizzie to nap or kiss…mostly kiss.

We spend the first week of hibernation watching her, playing with her when she's not screaming, and taking pictures to chronicle her life (okay, me more than Draco because as an obsessed mum I'm determined to chronicle every event in her life), watching her looks take shape and her blonde hair grow just a tidbit, getting used to being parents, avoiding persistent media, and sleeping when we can.

Because she's gaining weight, she has a set of slightly chubby cheeks. Merlin, she's just adorable when she brings her little mitten-covered fists to her face, yawns, everything. She recognizes my voice; I use it to placate her when she wants to start wailing.

We spend and the second week setting her to a sleeping schedule, which happens fairly easy and without much fuss. Ginny comes home at the end of the two-week hibernation (Lizzie's one month celebration "dinner") and is pleased by the progress.

Everything seems to get better from this point on.

At the end of the first month Lizzie is six pounds, six ounces, still sixteen inches long…and _hates_ the baby scale with a passion.

**Month two:** At five weeks she's watching us intently when we talk to her like she actually has a clue what we're talking about, and coos everytime one of us speaks. I take her to muggle London for the first time because I know photographers won't dare to take pictures, especially when they can get arrested for stalking and threaten to violate the secrecy of our world. Anyway, Ginny wants us bridesmaids to pick out a dress we want, maroon or cream (the wedding colors). We go for maroon. Darker colors are slimming and I haven't lost very much of the baby weight.

If babies could look bored, Lizzie would.

At six weeks she smiles for the first time. She's waking from a nap, we're about to take her to a pediatrician for a routine check-up and Draco says, "Merlin, she's getting big," and she smiles. That's the first time we see her dimples, and it's just too adorable for words. I just so happen to get it on camera.

Draco and I, at the insisting of an overly eager Pansy and Ginny, leave Lizzie in their care while we have our first date as parents. It's just dinner, a small walk, and a wizarding play. During intermission, we agree we miss her and we come home to find Lizzie already put down for the night and Pansy knocked out on the couch, exhausted. Ginny is lulling in and out of sleep on the arm chair and wonders aloud, "Merlin, how do you _do_ it?"

I reply with, "I've been asking myself that for weeks now."

At seven weeks, she coos, "ah", which is the first thing she's ever done outside of wailing at the top of her lungs. She's constantly looking around at everything. Lizzie is feverish this week and scares the living daylights out of us when she reaches a temp of 103. Turns out, she has an ear infection and we spend the rest of the week with a highly irritated and feverish baby, who does not like taking medication and has it slipped to her in a bottle. Draco brews this potion to keep her temperature down and it seems to calm everything back down.

By eight weeks she's lifting her head off the floor when I lay her on the floor. Ron is the first to see her "social" smile. He's making faces at her and making noises like a monkey…Lizzie breaks out with this huge grin I don't get on camera. I don't need it anyway; I'll remember that one for the rest of my life. Lizzie is a baby who gets a lot of attention and right now, she loves it.

At the end of the second month Lizzie is eight pounds, two ounces, seventeen and a half inches long…and Draco is finally coming around to the whole baby scale idea.

**Month three:** At week nine, Lizzie has a new best friend…her pacifier and this teddy bear Blaise bought her, which gets their own cry. She's constantly pulling at her clothes and is never too far from the blanket Mrs. Weasley knitted for her.

Draco and I finally have our first fight post-Lizzie. He wants to take Lizzie to meet my dad and I refuse. I know it's silly, but he abandoned me when I needed him most and he doesn't deserve the right to meet her. Besides, I doubt his opinion has changed about me or my daughter and we don't need his negativity. After a slammed door and two nights apart, we make up, both deciding its best to drop the subject for now…

Week ten has Lizzie loving to spend some time on the floor, she can raise her head and shoulders off the ground and bears weight on her little forearms. Ron spends his spare time trying to teach her to roll over to which Draco curtly replies, "My daughter is not a bloody _dog_, Weasley."

I don't know how long it takes me to stop laughing.

All her godparents volunteer to baby-sit while Draco and I go out on dates and it takes three of them for us to finally make it through one without coming home early.

The eleventh week of Lizzie's life is a hectic one. She starts to babble a lot more and "talks back" when anyone speaks to her. She plays a lot, squeals a lot, and is highly interested in anything that has shape. Draco has an emergency at work and has to come in even though he's taken time off and I have to extend my maternity leave. No one can baby-sit and I really don't want people to see her due to the hoopla surrounding her, it'll probably scare her. Thank Merlin for Anne and Mrs. Weasley, they come in no time and stay with her while I go to the hospital. Everyone asks about Lizzie and I tell them all she's just fine and at home napping under the supervision of her two grandmas.

I get my leave extended for another three months.

At twelve weeks Lizzie makes noise constantly and I still think it's cute; she's very energetic and tickled by everything. She can hold her head up, but wobbles some. I think watching Lizzie has made Harry want to be a dad; Ginny kind of looks at him like he's crazy for a minute there when he mentions it at dinner. Pansy and I snicker. Anne wants to get her christened and since dad is not a church-man, I oblige…Draco is a little hard to convince, but in the end, we come to a compromise. Anne gets her christening and Draco gets his wizard's form of a christening when she is six months old.

Draco is confused by muggle traditions and Lizzie cries through almost the entire ceremony.

At the end of month three Lizzie weighs nine pounds, nine ounces, is just about eighteen and a half inches long…and I stand against the wall of the bathroom and watch as Lizzie and Draco have an animated conversation about absolutely nothing while he weighs her.

**Month four:** Week thirteen flies by really quick. Lizzie successfully rolls over during one of Ron's "lessons", much to his and Pansy's excitement. She's grabbing everything these days and for the first time I realize my daughter is growing up much too fast. She has this bit of a growth spurt this week and gains almost a pound. Luna becomes the first person outside of me or Draco that rocks her to sleep. Must be something about Luna's aura that's calming…

Week fourteen is another fast week. Lizzie starts drooling everywhere one morning and it never stops. Draco is absent most of this week, between work emergencies and checking on the house, he's usually gone before I get up and he gets back after I put Lizzie down for the night. Lizzie is temperamental the entire week.

On one day Draco is here, Ginny invites Katie and Susan over to meet Lizzie and it takes a while, but she eventually warms up, they love her. Parvati comes over the very same day and I already know she wants something before she asks. It's around dinnertime when she shows up and I've cooked for all of us. I invite her to stay and she does. She sees Lizzie briefly, she's fallen asleep on the couch, under her blanket, clutching her teddy bear that's about as big as she is, and sucking on her pacifier. Yes, I've already snapped that shot. So cute.

Anyway, Parvati wants us to consider, with Nott (who didn't get sentenced to the kiss) appealing his sentence, letting her be the first to interview us about that day and photograph Lizzie for a little spread in Witch Weekly, kind of like her introduction to the wizarding world and my account of what happened. Draco and I discuss it and agree it's for the best and maybe she's old enough to be taken out. Maybe it'll diminish the attention on her and maybe they won't consider his attempt at reducing his sentence.

I don't want him out of Azkaban any time before Lizzie turns thirty.

Week fifteen is when Lizzie laughs for the first time. Ginny bought her a toy broom to replace the one that accidentally flew out the window. It flies around Lizzie's head and she claps her hands and laughs. I don't know who's more excited: us or Lizzie. She laughs at everything now. She's making all kinds of noises these days and touching every toy she can reach and is a pleasure to be around…when she's not having a crying fit.

This week is the week of the interview and the pictures. I give them one of Lizzie a couple of days after she's born while she's in the clear incubator. After the interview, which was as tough as it was cathartic, they take one with the three of us, I'm holding Lizzie and he's kissing her forehead. One with just him and Lizzie that you can clearly see Lizzie is his daughter, there's no doubt about it. Draco is sitting in a chair, holding her. He's bored and she is too and they're making the same face. They take one with me and Lizzie and she's content with playing with my necklace…and drooling. And they take one of Lizzie by herself. It takes some coaching, but we get her to smile, displaying her cute dimples.

Week sixteen is when we see the story in Witch Weekly. Parvati did a wonderful job with a sensitive subject and the magical pictures turned out well. It's Draco's birthday this week and instead of throwing a big party, Draco spends the night talking to me in bed, our daughter sleeping between us…of course, Blaise had to throw a party for him, despite his absence…I heard it was just as amazing as ever and no one really noticed the absence of the birthday boy.

As a test, I take Lizzie to Diagon Alley to the joke shop to visit George and the maybe fifteen customers stare at her, but they don't approach, except to tell me I have a beautiful daughter. George gets to hold her and comments that there is a future customer in the making…

Humph…not if I have anything to do with it.

At the end of the fourth month, Lizzie is eleven pounds, two ounces, and is twenty inches long…and displays some very worrisome and Slytherin behavior on occasion.

Now that we're all caught up…let's get on with the present.

This morning is the start to week seventeen and Lizzie wakes up just as Pansy, Ginny, and I come in from our morning jog, right on schedule. I hear her cries diminish and I know Draco is already in there. He's practically been living here for four months; we're practicing for permanence.

I recognize her cry immediately and warm up a bottle so it's ready for Draco when he brings her into the kitchen.

With a quick kiss good morning, one on his lips and another on Lizzie's forehead, I jump in the shower and Pansy floos home to shower and then to the manor to set up decorations for the baby shower.

After putting it off for obvious reasons, today is the big day. The baby shower Draco hasn't been looking forward to. It'll be the first day Lizzie will be around more than twenty people at once and all the attention will be on her.

I'm a little worried.

I don't know how she will behave around a lot of people and I don't know her feelings on being touched by strangers, I'm just hoping for the best and praying this four-month-old won't treat everyone to her infamous cry.

We're spending the night in the manor for the first time, just to test how she is in different environments.

I hope that goes well too.

Now, it's time for the moment of truth for me.

After drying off, I step on the scale.

130.0…I pump my fist in the air triumphantly.

Yes! Getting closer to normal.

I emerge from my room, dressed in a cute floral dress, and I'm greeted with squeals of delight, laughter, and sloshing water. Draco must be bathing her in the sink and I make sure I have my camera ready.

Sure enough, there they are, Lizzie squealing in delight as Draco bathes her…her blonde hair is in a short soapy Mohawk.

I snap the camera and start laughing, which makes her squeal and laugh more.

"That's Ginny's doing," Draco inform with a chuckle, "She was helping…or hindering the process it seems."

"It makes for an adorable picture," I push up and kiss his cheek, "How'd you sleep?"

He starts rinsing her down with the sprayer, taking his time and being careful, "Pretty well, you?"

"Did you realize that last night was the _first_ night she didn't wake up at three in the morning…she slept _all_ night."

It takes a quiet moment of thinking, but he realizes it too…and when he wraps a babbling Lizzie in a towel and turns, he notices me. Draco's grey eyes slightly widen and he looks me up and down, "That dress looks good on you," which is his special way of saying, _"You look hot."_

I'll take a compliment anyway I can get it, but I'll tease him in the meanwhile, "Are you flirting with me?"

His reply is simple and enigmatic, but very casual and very much like the charming Draco Malfoy all the girls fawned over at school, "Perhaps." There is a small transfer of Lizzie from his arms to mine and with a flirtatious smile; I turn away, making sure my hips sway just a little more than usual as I take Lizzie back to the nursery to dress her.

As I dress Lizzie in this pretty yellow dress with sunflowers, I realize Draco and I haven't had sex since she was born.

At first it's because I needed time to heal and life has been really hectic around here, but when things start to calm, the reason change to me not feeling very attractive, something that's starting to change now that I have most of the baby weight off.

Maybe I'm going to have to handle this predicament.

I charm Lizzie's soft blonde hair dry, brush it down with a soft brush, and put the matching headband on, much to her initial dismay. I distract her with a tickle and her pacifier, leaving the headband forgotten for now.

Ginny comes in and takes Lizzie off my hands.

So I slip back into the bedroom, shutting the door with a small 'click' behind me. Draco is half-dressed, facing away from me, and I creep up behind him, slowly wrapping my arms around him and running my hands up and down his muscular stomach.

He tenses slightly, but remains cool when he says, "Don't start something you can't finish."

I smile, kissing the center of his back before slightly dragging my teeth across the same spot. I smile to myself when he jumps ever so slightly, "I'm not," I reply innocently, "but I was thinking about something."

"Oh, you were? I'm not surprised. Pray tell what you were thinking about."

"We haven't had sex since Lizzie was born. Have you noticed that?"

That makes him tense again, but he keeps his voice even, "I've noticed."

I lift up on the tips of my toes and whisper in his ear, "Let's make up for lost time…_tonight_."

His reserve cracks and Draco shudders.

And before he can say anything, I kiss his shoulder and leave him to dress, smiling. Before I close the door, I see him sit down on the edge of the bed and run his hand through his hair, telling me I've gotten to him. Victoriously, I make sure no sound is made when I shut the door completely.

I come into the living room where Ginny and Lizzie are shaking rattles together and sit on the couch, smiling haughtily.

Ginny looks up, questioning me with her eyes, "What are you so smug about?"

I chuckle, "Oh, nothing."

* * *

_I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you, but you just smile and take my hand  
You've been there you understand. It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true  
Every long lost dream lead me to where you are  
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars, pointing me on my way into your loving arms  
This much I know is true, that God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you_  
"_Bless the Broken Road"—Rascal Flatts_

_(Later on that evening)_

The party goes off without a hitch and I must admit Pansy does a wonderful job planning this extravaganza.

Music. Friends. Food. Company. Laughter. Jokes. It's all great.

It's good to see those I haven't seen in a long time.

Neville and Hannah. Lavender. Dean and Susan. Padma and Rodger with their newly adopted daughter, Ella. Lee and Katie. Daphne must've taken my advice because she's here with Seamus, just as friends, but it's a start. The entire Weasley family. Teddy is here with his grandmother, Andromeda. She and Draco disappear to talk for a few. Ellis is here with a select few from Draco's job and Grant is here with a select few of my other co-workers. Hagrid's here, talking to Anne, who has never seen a half-giant before. McGonagall and Slughorn are here too, bantering on whether Lizzie will be a Slytherin or a Gryffindor. I can go on forever telling about all the people here, but really, there are too many here to discuss them all.

"Oh, Hermione, where's Lizzie?" an excited Alicia Spinnet asks.

Of course, I don't have to look long before I see her.

Even at four months, Lizzie takes after Draco in the sense that she does _not_ enjoy parties.

She is sitting on her daddy's lap on one of the many couches, headband abandoned, yawning and looking around with this look that says just how much she's enjoying herself. Pansy is talking to a bored-looking Draco, probably trying to get him to get up and mingle, but she may as well stop, it's not going to work. I'm just happy he's in the same room as the festivities and not hiding away upstairs.

"Elizabeth looks like Draco." Justin Finch-Fletchley comments for the third time since he's seen her, but adds, "They have a lot of the same mannerisms."

I can see that.

Half an hour later, Lizzie moves from his lap to lying on her stomach on the floor, pushing herself up while Draco keeps a protective eye on her while he and his aunt chat. Ella and Teddy are playing with her and Lizzie seems to be entertained for the moment, laughing and squealing.

"She's adorable, Hermione," Lavender swoons, "She looks just like Draco, but she has your bone structure."

Umm…thanks? Is that all she could pick out? My bone structure is the only thing that makes Lizzie look like me?

I happen to think she has the blonde version of my eyebrows too…and my cheekbones.

Damn it. I carry her for eight months and she looks and sort of acts like Draco Malfoy.

How is this fair?

Fifteen minutes later and Lizzie is bored with Ella and Teddy and starts yawning again.

I scoop her up and try to take her around the room, but she wants nothing to do with any of these strangers. Five minutes later, I'm standing over a lemonade drinking Draco Malfoy holding Lizzie on one hip, headband back on her head, still to her dismay.

He looks up slowly, "You look perturbed."

"Lizzie doesn't look a thing like me," I blurt out. Not exactly what I intended to say…

Andromeda chuckles, "The Malfoy genes are strong."

Grunts, "Apparently. Still, she _really_ looks nothing like me."

He looks at me, puzzled, "Umm…okay…you _do_ realize I can't do a thing about that, don't you?"

A small smile appears on my face, "I'm just tired of everyone telling me."

Draco gets up and kisses me quickly on the lips, if his goal is to placate me, it works, just a smidge.

He then takes Lizzie out of my arms and holds her. The two of them exchange looks and then look at me briefly and sweet Merlin, they_ look_ like father and daughter. They both have that, "mommy's crazy" look on their faces…okay, it may be my overactive imagination at work again, but that's probably what Draco is thinking at the moment.

He stares at me blankly for a few more moments, "Are you trying to get me to go and socialize?"

"That would make me feel a little better."

Draco rolls his eyes, sighs, excuses himself from his aunt, and disappears in the crowd of talking guests, holding Lizzie proudly in his arms.

"Well, don't you have quite the little family here?" Hannah comments with a smile minutes later, "Parenthood suits you two…do you plan on having any more children?"

The snort comes out before I can stop it, "Oh, no…not now, no way. I'm content with one baby. I have a feeling she's going to give me a run for my money when she _can_ run."

Hannah laughs, "She _is_ a Malfoy…the resemblance between them is really…" she trails off, this amazed gleam in her eyes. Her eyes then wander to Draco who is talking to Slughorn and Harry…two people he's familiar with.

I shake my head. He will never change.

Hannah's voice interrupts my thoughts, "A bunch of people were speculating that Lizzie isn't his daughter, but all that speculation shut up once Witch Weekly published the pictures."

I excuse myself from Hannah a few moments later, not interested in petty gossip about any of us, and approach Slughorn, Harry, and Draco.

I drop a kiss on Lizzie's cheek. She yawns again and I think it's getting close to naptime.

"Ah, Miss. Granger…there you are," Slughorn smiles, "When will I be able to call you Mrs. Malfoy?"

My eyes widen and I clear my throat, "I—" Harry looks like he's ready to burst out laughing and Draco's face is even. My mind is spinning from the question, I need an out, fast, "I, uh—" I lock eyes with Draco. His face may be even, but his eyes show just how humored he is. Bastard. I'll show him, "I think that's more of a question for Draco, seeing as to _he_ gets to make that decision…" and I kiss a wide-eyed Draco's cheek, excuse myself, and walk away quickly.

I mingle a bit longer and lose sight of Draco, only to see him back on the damn couch, with Lizzie, both brooding. If it weren't such a funny sight, I'd be mad.

But I just laugh and shake my head and accept the fact that my boyfriend is not a party person…and neither is my daughter.

After a while, I attempt to make another round with Lizzie again, but it doesn't go well.

She's terrified of Hagrid initially and screams the moment she sees him and she just stares at all the strangers that try to play and coo at her with those big grey eyes of hers.

And just when Dean thinks he's made some leverage with her, she waits until he lifts her up in the air over his head to open her mouth and release a mouth full of drool right slap in the center of his forehead with a _'splat!'_ and proceeds to laugh about it, _hard_.

"Aargh!" Dean exclaims, looking utterly disgusted.

Hiding his chuckle, Draco, looking proud as ever for her very Slytherin behavior, takes Lizzie from Dean before I get a chance to and directs him to the closest bathroom.

Dean breaks out in a run.

He turns around and finds me frowning with my arms folded, tapping my foot.

Innocently, "What?"

Hands on hips, "You seemed a little happy about that."

Candidly, "When my daughter displays Slytherin behavior, how can I not be happy?"

I roll my eyes, "She's not even six months old and you're trying to figure out where she's going to be sorted. Pathetic, Draco."

"Oh, come on, you know you've been thinking about it."

Actually, I have, but he doesn't need to know that, "She needs a bottle and a nap." I kiss his cheek and hers. Lizzie laughs and I watch them head out the room, shaking my head. Lord knows I don't need her to be a Slytherin; neither Draco nor Ron will ever let me live it down. A Gryffindor with a Slytherin baby, humph.

Lizzie eventually comes around…after her nap.

Her disposition towards Hagrid and everyone else changes when she wakes up. Her laughs and babbling can be heard all over as Ginny takes her around to show her to guests. People take turns holding her, I discover when I'm looking for the unsociable Draco to start opening gifts, but after about thirty seconds in a stranger's arms, Lizzie is no longer compliant. But she does let Dean hold her a bit longer, maybe as an I'm sorry.

After a long search, I find Draco in the same study we conceived Lizzie in, sitting at his desk, back turned to the open door, but he hears the sound of my shoes when they hit the wooden floors, "You _can_ come in, you know." He spins in his chair, gets up, and lays his wand on his desk.

I cock my brow, "This sounds familiar."

He smirks and approaches me, "It should. It's been over a year."

I rest my hands on his chest, "I was so determined to get away from you…and here we are, a year later…together."

"Would we be here if it weren't for Lizzie?"

Shrugs, "I don't know. I've asked myself that question a hundred times and I still don't know the answer. Part of me says no, that we're both too stubborn and prideful to have patched up anything on our own. But part of me thinks that yes, we would. That part of me thinks that there's always been this invisible force between you and me, has been since that night in the Astronomy tower when you held my hand and told me I had dirt on my chin."

Draco makes a face, "You remember that?"

Smirks, "I refer to it as the beginning of the dysfunction that was you and me."

He stares at me intensely, "And what are we now?"

"Just that, _we_."

I like the sound of that. _We_.

Looking over, my eyes catch the green couch that I refer to as "THE couch."

My eyebrow rises, "You haven't gotten rid of that thing?"

"Should I? We conceived Lizzie on that couch. It's lucky."

"I don't think I shared your sentiments about ten months ago."

"No, you were too busy slapping me to share sentiments."

I bust out laughing, "That's probably true," I sober up quickly and add, "I'm just happy I'm still here to—"

He kisses my forehead, "Me too."

No more words are needed, not for a long time because he wraps his arms around me and holds me.

It's not until what feels like hours later that I finally say, "Come on, let's go open gifts."

The amount of gifts we receive is astonishing. All kinds of clothes and shoes, blankets and magical pampers, toys and an enchanted music box, a bouncer and a swing, a play pen and broom she clearly won't be able to ride for a while. Hagrid bought her a children's book on magical creatures so she won't be scared of them when she gets older. She got a bunch of books, now that I think about it.

The party goes on for hours. I let Draco disappear after the presents are opened. He wants nothing to do with the party and is getting increasingly restless and sulky. Where he goes, I don't know, but soon, people slowly start to file out. And soon enough it's just the inner circle of godparents left.

"Pans," I sip my drink, "You did a great job with all this."

She smiles proudly and holds Ron's hand, "I had a lot of help from Ron." She kisses his cheek and he blushes.

Ginny chuckles and looks around, "Where's Draco?"

"You know parties aren't his thing," I shrug, "I'm surprised he stuck around as long as he did."

"Me too, actually…and he actually _talked_ to people," Blaise comments in incredulous tones from his seat next to Luna, peeking over at Lizzie who is sleeping peacefully in her arms.

"Don't sound so astonished," Draco speaks up from the doorway. He's leaning on the frame, hands in his pockets, looking bloody sexy as hell, "I'm capable of many things."

Not going to disagree with him there.

An hour later, the house is finally clear of all guests and Draco can't be happier. Now I realize part of why he's been so bloody impatient all afternoon. That promise I made this morning rings clear in my head. He puts Lizzie down in the crib in her massive and extravagantly decorated nursery and the next thing I know, we're in the master bedroom, monitor turned on.

My dress and his clothes are pooled around our feet.

I lean back against his naked body, just letting his fingertips run over me.

The feelings running through me are overwhelming and vast and full of assurance, his touches are full of tenderness. For a moment, thoughts of Lizzie flit through my head, but Draco touches my chin, turns my head so I'm looking back over my shoulder, and kisses me until my thoughts are only of him. Only of him and now.

His skin is so warm and soft. I feel his lips on my shoulder and they burn. They burn as he kisses me again and again, my shoulders, the nape of my neck, the length of my spin, the curve of my hips and bum. I feel woozy, like I can barely stand on my own. I sense him, slipping down, down on his knees. He kisses down the back of my legs and back up a new path.

Draco gets back to his feet and lifts me with ease off the floor and rests me on the edge of the bed.

I crawl to the center and urge him to follow with the curl of my finger.

He obeys.

We're on our knees in the center of the bed and I once again feel him kissing down, down between the valley between my breasts, down to my stomach, down. He's slowly pushing me down, down on the comforter so I can be with him. Be with him. I want to be with Draco as completely as a person can be with another.

He starts from my feet, his lips work their way up my body, and I feel myself become boiling hot as this torture goes on.

Again, he's whispering words I can't understand for anything…and again, it doesn't matter. All that matters is how he feels in my arms and how he manages to draw me to him, even as I lie beneath him.

I arch up to feel him against every part of me and suddenly, I don't want foreplay, I don't want anything except him inside of me; filling me and making me his.

"Tell me what you want." I hear him whisper in my ear when his body finally blankets mine and he aligns himself.

Draco's fingers tremble on my face, making me look at him, look into the deep, endless pools of his eyes. He guard is all the way down and he's totally open right now and for a moment, all I can do is stare at him…that is, I feel him throbbing between us and my thoughts blur with lust. I feel my own body, wet and tense, my legs climbing up his back.

He rasps deeply, "Tell me, Hermione."

What I want…it's simple, "Nothing, just you."

His eyes soften and I think I've finally told him what he's waited to hear these past three, almost four years...and I'm stunned that he needs the same validation I do.

And without hesitating another moment, Draco pushes against me, eases inside me, and fills every empty space in me with himself. All thoughts of validation and wants are gone from my mind. It's not like anything before, it's different, he's patient with me, tender even, like he's trying to memorize this moment forever. I feel myself arching into him, wrapping my arms around his back, tensing against him. This, right along with everything that is Lizzie, is definitely one of those mental scrapbook moments.

Draco pauses, just to regain his ground, "Hermione…" it's a small sigh, a breath, a groan, a whisper. It's all that and so much more.

His eyes, which haven't left mine, crinkle in the corners with his smile. I pull him close to kiss that smile, close my eyes, and relax.

This moment is cosmic, extraordinary, lovely, and…

…interrupted by a screaming baby.

What the…"This is _not_ happening," I resolve in my own mind. This _can't_ be happening. We're right _here_. Not fair!

I feel Draco relax against me, groaning in the crook of my neck something that sounds like curse words just before he reluctantly pulls out. God, this _is_ happening.

I suddenly feel empty, still hot and very much bothered.

"Just wait," he says huskily, "I'll change her and we can pick up where we left off."

He kisses me deeply and gets up and off the bed, throwing on a pair of pajama pants.

Groaning, I get under the covers and wait.

…and wait…

…and wait some more…

I go in the nightstand and pull out a book to read.

…I read…

…I read some more…

…I read thirteen chapters…

Finally, about an hour later and a loud groan, I get up, put on a robe and head in the direction of the nursery.

Of course, I get lost twice before I find it and push open the double doors slowly.

If I ever tell anyone about this sight they'll never believe me. I can scarcely believe it myself.

There he is, Draco Malfoy, in the rocking chair, sleeping and shirtless, with a diaper-clad baby girl sleeping on his chest. Music from the charmed music box is playing lowly in the background and the lights are dimmed.

My lip trembles at the sight. I wipe a few tears away and slowly tip-toe into the nursery, trying not to wake either. My eyes catch the camera sitting on a dresser and I take full advantage of this sight.

I know it must've been especially difficult to put her down after changing her diaper and listening to the beat of a heart always seems calms her down when all else fails. I would leave them here, just as they are, but his back and neck will probably kill him by morning and Lizzie needs a blanket on her back, it's chilly in the room and the goosebumps are evident.

She protests in her sleep just a little when I lift her off his chest, but with a few rocks, I put her down in the crib, kiss her head, and pull the blanket over her. Next, I softly run my fingers through his unruly hair and that wakes the sleeper up. He jumps a little out of his sleep and his eyes quickly meet mine.

His mouth opens, ready to spew excuses, but I put my finger over my lips, take him by the hand and lead him out the nursery.

When I shut the door he starts, "Damn, I'm sorry I fell asleep like that."

"It's okay. It's been a long day." I kiss him deeply and he wraps his arms around me, "There will be more opportunities. Come," I pull his hand slightly, "Let's go to bed."

* * *

'_Cause all the roads they lead to where you are_

_And all the streetlights shine like they were stars_

_That's where you are_

_Let's spend tonight on top of the world_

_And we can do anything, we can be anything_

_I'll meet you tonight on top of the world_

_As real as it seems, you're only in my dreams._

"_On Top Of the World"—Boys Like Girls_

_(Almost a month later: July 9__th)_

Draco has been really quiet and pensive for the last two weeks.

When I ask him what's wrong he says, "Nothing."

But I know he's lying.

Since I don't feel like, nor do I have the time to be his psychiatrist because of Ginny's wedding next month and I'm too busy being hers. I've decided not to press the issue. He's still the same Draco Malfoy as before, he still kisses the same, he still dotes on Lizzie the same, he still makes fun of Ron the same, but there's something different about him.

It looks like he has a lot on his mind. I wish he'd tell me, maybe I can help, but I've decided not to push it or him because I detect he doesn't need the added pressure and he needs time to work through whatever is on his mind at his own rate.

He's gone back to work after his paternity leave and even though Draco is a bit of a workaholic, I think he misses being here. He talks about how boring his day was, when he talks at all, and he's always telling Lizzie that he misses her. He says the same thing to me when he calls me between meetings and I stare at the phone with wide eyes, he's still definitely not one to express himself so freely.

Lizzie's laughs break into my thoughts.

She's grown so much this month and tomorrow she'll be five months old.

Everyday, Lizzie looks more and more like Draco. Her blonde hair is growing, just a bit and it's a tad darker than Draco's and it's starting to curl, so I've been given some hope. She's really strong, despite the fact that she's so much smaller than the normal five month old baby, and according to doctors she's developing faster than they expected.

When I tell them she doesn't like to be held by strangers, they look at me strangely and tell me she shouldn't be able to tell the difference at her age. I just look at them blankly and say, "Well, she can."

She wiggles around a lot, is a master at rolling over and does so frequently with Ron in the living room, and loves being upright. I've taken to putting her in the swing and she likes it a lot.

I can't wait until tomorrow to weigh her. Lizzie is thirteen pounds, three ounces, and is approximately twenty-three inches long (she wiggles)…and Lizzie is quite a fan of her toes.

She's full on babbling when I carry her into the living room to sit her in the swing that's facing the kitchen so she can watch me clean up. I talk to her while I clean the kitchen, tell her what I'm doing and why, and she babbles back. Back and forth we go, and I'm sure she doesn't understand me, but I'm trying to promote language and build our relationship.

Ginny walks in and looks humorous, "Why are you explaining the purpose of cleaning to a five month old?"

Rolling my eyes, explaining, "I'm talking to her. Lizzie is learning language in the context of experience. Babies learn receptive language skills before they learn expressive language skills. She may not understand me at this exact moment, but she will understand what I'm saying to her long before she's able to speak. When babies grow in a language-rich environment, they naturally learn to speak. And because I regularly talk to her and listen to her, she'll readily learn language…isn't that right, Liz?"

Her face is blank and Lizzie babbles a response.

Ginny looks at Lizzie, Lizzie looks at Ginny then at me, and Ginny finally says, "You've been reading too many baby books, Hermione."

Lizzie starts laughing.

I do too.

Ginny starts the swing and Lizzie is content.

She sits at the table and looks at me, "Have you talked to Draco?"

"Not since he called this afternoon for lunch a lunch meeting."

"Did he ever tell you what's wrong?"

"Nope and I'm not going to press it."

Without another word, Ginny gets up and picks up Lizzie to go play with blocks in the nursery and I finish cleaning the kitchen, lost in thoughts.

Like Draco, I've had a lot on my mind as well. For the first time since the attack, I allow my thoughts to shift to Nott.

They denied his attempt to reduce his sentence; it's likely he's going to be in Azkaban for the rest of his life. No one deserves it more than he does. He almost made me miss out on my daughter's life, and he almost made history repeat itself. I still wonder what it's going to be like for me when I go back to work. How will people treat me? Will being there bring back memories? I don't know, Merlin, I hope not, but only time will tell, right?

Finished with my cleaning, I put down the dish towel and turn around and there is Draco, sitting on the couch, quiet.

"How long have you been here?" I ask, standing in front of him.

Draco looks up, "Not long."

I hold my hand out, "It's a nice night, come sit with me outside."

His hand slides into mine, and stands up, looking around, "Where's Lizzie?"

"With Ginny, playing blocks," I lead him outside on the patio.

It really is a nice night. It's warm, the sun has just finished setting and the sky is purple. I can't see any stars, not even the brightest ones, but it's still too early for all that.

We stand together, leaning on the rod iron railing of the patio, just staring out into the distance. No words are exchanged between us and it's peaceful like this, with the wind blowing, the trees swaying, the ambiance of the evening, and the constant noise from the city I've become accustomed to and thus tuned out.

"How has your day been?" I ask, breaking the silence.

"Long…yours?"

"Pretty good.

Another silence falls between us, but Draco breaks it rather quickly, "I've had a lot on my mind lately and I…thank you for not pressing."

"You're welcome."

I don't look at him; I just stare out into the darkening sky. I hear him shift, but I think nothing of it. Draco sighs, pushes off the railing, restless as ever. I turn and look at him, concerned, and I'm instantly swept into his stormy grey eyes. His hands are at his side and he's clenching something in one of them. I squint to see, but he moves his hand behind his back.

"Hermione," he speaks. Draco is nervous as hell and I'm confused.

"Are you al—?"

Draco holds out a little black box in his hand, it's open and there's a diamond ring staring at me, "Marry me."

The box makes a snapping noise when I shut it, "No."

* * *

What can I say? I love cliffhangers...no flames please. 


	15. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. does.

Author's note: I'm surprised no one showed up at my front door with pitch forks and axes, demanding to see the next chapter. I spared everyone the heartbreaking cliffhanger in chapter 12, right? I thought I did a good thing...I've never seen so many CAPS in my life. It was absolutely _hilarious_ reading everyone's reviews, I've never laughed so hard at reviews. I felt a twinge of guilt, only for a second and then I remembered that I love cliffhangers and reading hilarious reviews. Holy crap there were almost 60 of them. Thank you all seriously, it really inspired me to finish 15 and plan out 16. Seriously, 14 pages in two days. It's got to be some kind of record. I won't ramble any longer. The truth awaits. Enjoy the chapter. Don't forget to review, please. Peace...until next time!

* * *

_So sacrifice yourself and let me have what's left  
I know that I can find, the fire in your eyes  
I'm going all the way, get away please.  
You take the breath right out of me.  
You left a hole where my heart should be.  
You got to fight just to make it through  
Cause I will be the death of you_

"_Breath"—Breaking Benjamin_

_(Moments later)_

It's so quiet after that.

So very silent and still, enough that I can hear, and not just feel the warm summer breeze fluttering by is.

His hand clenches the shut box and it disappears behind his back once again. I watch in edgy and nervous anticipation as Draco's tongue darts out to lick his lips, slightly. He's tense, his face is unreadable, and he hasn't moved an inch. I know he's going to get mad, I just know it, and so in the midst of this silence, I brace myself for the outburst of a lifetime.

It's going to make the night in front of the fireplace look like a three-year-old temper tantrum.

Mentally, I gather all my reasons for refusing him: we haven't been together long enough, the fact that us getting married may distract us from Lizzie with all the planning and brouhaha that surrounds a wedding, and that me going back to work will distract me further. I have to get used to being a working mum. I don't think I'm ready to be a working mum _and_ a wife. I'll add the fact that we're probably not ready for such a commitment and it's really not all that logical for us to get married right now.

Oh, and let's not leave out the fact that I'm frightened out of my _wits_ about this!

So I gather my nerves and every ounce of will, and everything else because I'm going to need it all to get through this.

Draco slips the box back into his pocket and speaks for the first time in a very slow voice, "Alright."

"Alright?" I repeat, confusion written all over my face and voice.

He nods his head slowly at the statement, "Yes…alright."

My face scrunches up. I mean, really scrunches up, like I ate a bad lemon.

Quick, someone call the Daily Prophet, Draco Malfoy just stumped the bookworm Hermione Granger with one word.

Seriously, I don't know why I didn't expect this. I mean, he did respond to my pregnancy with a, _"That sounds like a personal problem,"_ Why shouldn't he react to a refusal with an _"alright"_? That's right up his alley, right?

Yes, but I'm really stunned. So stunned I _have_ to find out why this is so bloody alright with him, "It's alright?"

"It's alright," he echoes listlessly…and then to top off the surprises, he smirks. He bloody smirks!

Not the usual Draco Malfoy smirk, not the _"you're being ridiculous, Hermione Granger"_ smirk, or even the _"you can't deny me, I'm fucking Draco Malfoy"_ smirk. I've seen those smirks. This is nothing like those. It's just a smirk. I have no idea what kind of emotions are beneath it and since I don't have a clue, it…well, it scares the living shit out of me, to be honest.

My heart feels like it's going to thump right out of my chest and land on the floor between us.

What kind of reaction is this?

_Is he insane?_

I don't know but this is insane.

_He_ is insane.

Because Draco Malfoy has lost all his marbles and has gone insane, it's making _me_ insane.

An insane Hermione Granger is never a good thing.

My mouth opens. Shuts. Opens again. Shuts again. Opens once more.

"What?" I ask slowly and when he stands there with that blank look on his face, I feel the urge to rant building in me and I proceed to question, "It's _alright_?" I let the urge to rant saturate me through and through, "It's alright? How in the hell is it alright? I don't understand how this is alright with you! Don't you want to scream at me or something? Holler? Storm out of here with your cloak billowing in the wind? Do _something_, Draco, don't just stand there and say, "alright" and smirk at me. This is not alright and you know it!"

Draco's eyebrow raises in question, confusion, and possibly amazement.

He opens his mouth to say something, but then it shuts instantly.

I realize we're back to where we used to be, with me ranting and raving like I'm insane and him sitting there calmly.

And it doesn't bother me because I need to know why this is alright with him.

"I knew it!" I point, before continuing my tirade, pointing at him, "I knew this isn't alright. I know that you know that _I_ know that this is not alright!" my hands go up an down as I continue to rave about how it's not alright and his reaction to the refusal is not alright, "It's just not logical, this doesn't make any sense, how are you alright and I'm the one ranting? This is not alright, Draco, just admit it."

"Okay," he speaks hesitantly, "Perhaps it's not as alright as I claim."

My voice raises an octave and a half, "Perhaps? Are you—_perhaps?_ What the he—_perhaps!_"

His hands clasp around the finger that I've been unknowingly digging into my skin and he laces our fingers together, still calm as hell, "Has anyone ever told you that you're _completely_ mental?"

I glare and ignore him, demanding, "Don't change the subject, Draco 'I-don't-have-a-bloody-middle-name' Malfoy. Just admit that it's not the hell alright!" I remove my hand from his and start pacing.

Of course, Draco doesn't. He just stands there, watching me, his eyes trailing me as I continue to pace back and forth. I swear he's trying to fight back a smirk and possibly a laugh at the fact that I've lost my cool as well as my mind.

"And stop acting all bloody serene and unflappable and shit!" I cry out for good measure before I fold my arms and huff.

The silence lasts about a minute, "Are you done?" Draco asks calmly.

He's calm? How in the hell is he calm? This is outrageous and it doesn't make any fucking sense. I'm supposed to be collected and calm. I told him no. He's supposed to be hysterical and screaming because I told him no. When the hell did the roles switch? I drop my folded arms and look out at the sky that's supposed to be calm me down, but isn't working.

"You're supposed to be the upset one," I tell him, "You could at least_ pretend_ to be a little heartbroken, you know."

"Who the hell says I'm _not_?" he challenges with the fire I'm used to seeing with an angry Draco. There we go!

I know it's immature behavior on my part, but I egg him on, sitting on one of the four black rod iron chairs on the antique patio table set Anne gave to me when Ginny and I moved into our first flat together, "You're supposed to be pleading with me, professing everlasting love, begging even. I mean…you're supposed to do_ something_ Draco!"

He sits down on the chair closest to me so we're even and smirks…the same stupid ass smirk from before, "Now you know like I do that begging and professing my, what did you say, my everlasting love, that's not really my style."

Damn it, I know it's not his style. I don't even know why I said it. I don't even know why I'm so upset with his ridiculous response. If someone could get in my mind and listen to my thoughts they would probably deem me crazy and give Draco custody of Lizzie.

Sighing, "I know, but accepting something as is isn't your style either. It's not very logical for you to be this calm."

"To be honest, I bought the ring four months ago, right before Lizzie was born. I had every intention on proposing then, but then the attack happened and then it was all about Lizzie so I waited. I've been working on this for the last two weeks—"

I thump myself in the head, "So _that's_ what's been wrong with you."

"Yes," he replies with a casual wave of his hand, "I just convinced myself that you'd say no anyway."

Another sigh, "You shouldn't have to do that. You shouldn't have to hope for the worst when it comes to me."

"I don't," Draco reaches over and brushes the hair behind my ear thoughtfully and continues, "I just know how you are. We haven't been together for a long time, Lizzie is growing right before our eyes and we have to focus our attention on her, and soon enough, you'll be back at work and you have to get used to being a working mum and it's going to be hard enough without tacking on the wife aspect of it, you think we're not ready for such a serious commitment…and I'm sure you're scared out of your barmy, logic-obsessed mind. I'm sure you've thought of all that."

My eyes widen out of my sockets, wider and wider with each word he speaks until I'm sure they're about to fall out and roll across the patio.

What in the hell? Has he been reading my mind? Practicing Legilimency on me when I'm sleeping?

_Surely_ he can't know all this without reading my mind. That's just absurd, "How…do you know all this?"

"I've thought of the same thing…well, from my point of view as a dad."

Of course, I just stare at him hard for a moment, "And you still came to the conclusion that we should get married?"

"Yes."

"We _still_ don't have a plan."

"Have we ever had one before?"

"Not particularly."

"We did try once, but I don't think plans work for us…do you think that _we_ work?"

"Yes, but I don't know _how_ sometimes, to be honest."

"Alright…"

I want to pull my hair out when he says that. Here we go again with the_ alright_ mess, "Draco," I warn with a glare.

He smiles. It's the second time I've seen him smile since we were children at war with each other. It's a kind of nervous smile. Actually, now that I think about it, it's more than nervous. And then he stops smiling as quickly as he started, grey eyes pierce right into me with this expectant look Lizzie gets when she's starting to get hungry.

The look on Draco makes him look serious and solemn at the same time.

He pulls out the ring, opens the box, and sits it on the rod iron table, "Do you trust me, Hermione?"

My eyes rest on the ring before me. It's a round cut diamond and I've never seen one so large or with such clarity in my life. It looks new. My eyes then meet his gaze wearily when he asks that question.

I look at him, "Do I trust you?" I echo, voice and fingers trembling.

Frustration is clear in his voice, "Don't make this complicated, Hermione. It's an easy question. Do you trust me?"

Tears fill my eyes and my words are suddenly choked, "Implicitly."

He adjusts in his seat, pleased with my answer, "Do you trust me when I say that I think we're ready for this commitment and getting married will not distract us from the things that are important to the both of us?"

"Yes."

"And do you trust me when I say that we are going to be enormously happy together, despite the fact that we fight like children and despite the fact that we're both stubborn and petulant people who are prone to having temper tantrums, outbursts, and fits of rage? Do you trust me when I say that?"

Just a bit hesitant, but honest when I reply with a small, "…yes."

I glance at the ring again, that huge, flashing, bright, stunning diamond. The thing is like a neon sign in space. It taunts me.

"Marriage, Draco, is very serious…and very permanent—"

He chuckles, "So I've been told."

"I don't believe in divorce."

Draco wipes the tear that threatens to fall from my eyes, "It's nice to know we agree on something else. That brings our grand total up to nine things we agree on. That _has_ to be a record of some sort."

I stare at him like he's gone mad. Why is he trying to be funny? This is _not_ a time to be funny or make stupid little jokes.

"This is insane."

He merely shrugs, "True."

"Do you think at twenty-two we're ready for that?"

For a moment, he stares at me evenly, "Do you think I'd be on my knee if I _didn't_ think we were?"

Oh, fuck. I don't even know what to say. Actually, scratch that. I do. The first time he asked, my mind processed it all as unbelievable, impossible, and damn confusing. I just _knew_ Draco Malfoy wasn't shoving a ring in my face and asking me to spend the rest of our lives together. I didn't expect it until Lizzie turned maybe five…but now, after the initial panic, now it's processing definite comprehension to the question and what it means.

Me and him…together forever…let me just make sure he knows what he's getting into.

"You're talking about forever…with me, Draco," I speak cautiously, still trying to get over the fact that this is really happening, "You said so yourself, I'm completely mental and ridiculous…not to mention, I'm a recovering control freak…do you really want to spend forever with me?"

The smirk grows into a small smile, "Of course, it's going to be entertaining."

I growl, "I'm being serious."

Draco looks blank, "Alright…"

Irritated grunt, "Don't start that shit again. Forever is a long time."

He smirks and kisses my hand I didn't realize was resting on his, "Not really, I don't think…not for us."

"Yeah, it's going to take forever for us to get our shit together."

Draco chuckles, "I happen to think we're perfect together, as we are. There aren't two people better matched than us, at least that's what Anne said when I asked her permission."

I blink a couple of times, "You asked Anne?"

"At the baby shower…I asked Ginny, Pansy, and Luna too later on. Ginny cried, so I took that as her yes."

Raises an eyebrow to this bit of news, those friends of mine didn't even throw a hint my way…except Ginny's incessant questioning. They could've let me know _something_, I mean, really. I could've been more prepared for this, "You did?"

He nods and kisses my hand again, staring straight into my eyes, "Hermione," Draco's voice is hoarse as he leans over, just enough to capture my lips in a gentle kiss that makes my head spin, "Marry me," he whispers against my lips.

I lift my gaze up, searching his eyes.

This is crazy. He is crazy. I am crazy. But I think he's right. I think we can do this, despite everything we've been through, despite the fights, the slapping, the tantrums, the sullenness on his part and the craziness of mine…and despite the fact that I'm crazy scared.

But I think that with his charm and my brains, we'll figure out some bloody potion or some method to alleviate me of my fears and him of his…sudden strangeness.

I pick the ring out the box and hold it in my hand. It's actually a bit heavy as far as rings go…is that a platinum band?

Oh, yes it is. It's simple, just a solitary diamond on a platinum band, but it's simply beautiful.

I shake myself out of my girly moment, take a deep breath, stare in to his eyes, and answer softly, "Alright."

* * *

_When the dance is through it's me and you.  
Come on, would it really be so bad?  
The things we think might be the same.  
But I won't fight for more.  
It's just not me to wear it on my sleeve  
Count on that for sure._

"_Work"—Jimmy Eat World_

_(Two weeks later: July 23__rd)_

It all starts this morning with this unfamiliar cry from Lizzie that makes me tear my bedroom apart in search for those earplugs Pansy bought during the "four days of hell".

Let me just say that I'm not being dramatic in any way when I say that I think she's going to tear down the infrastructure of the flat with this wail in particular. Nobody is home, which is lucky on their part and bad on mine. Anne isn't picking up her phone. Draco is in a meeting…Blaise too. Ron and Ginny are at practice. Harry is at work. Pansy is checking on her mum. For the first time as a mum, I feel utterly helpless…but never fear; they don't call me the brightest witch of my day for nothing.

So, I spend the next hour of my life trying to placate her and figure out what's wrong.

Seriously…an_ hour_…to be exact, I spend sixty-two minutes trying to appease Lizzie.

I try to play blocks with her and I _swear_ she gives me a Draco Malfoy glare, one that says, _"How dare you insinuate that I want to play with silly little blocks in my condition,"_ and then she proceeds to scream louder.

I sing songs to her, which she usually likes and tries to emulate in her own way. Not today. All attempts at singing are drowned out by screaming.

I try to feed her and she gums down on my nipple, which promptly ends the breastfeeding session quickly. Gumming down is not totally out of the norm; it only reminds me why I use the pump in the first place. It has all the benefits of breastfeeding, without the gumming.

I check her diaper and put on a fresh one…which almost doesn't happen, because of her incessant need to wiggle and scream.

I do everything I can think of.

And then I throw caution to the wind and let her suck on my finger…and she bites me!

Okay, so it doesn't hurt, it just startles me because she doesn't bite outside of breastfeeding, but she starts gnawing on my finger like crazy and it stops the crying.

Mrs. Weasley, who I owled in a panic, comes into the nursery only to coo in an excited voice, clapping her hands, "Looks like Lizzie's started teething!"

I look at her crazy, "What? She's only five and half months old…isn't that early?"

"Nope, right on time. Has she been drooling more than usual lately?"

"Oh Merlin _yes_, Draco compared her to Fang just the other night." I chuckle at the memory.

Mrs. Weasley does too, "Has she been grinding her gums together a lot?"

I think about for a moment, "Yeah, she did that last night."

"It sounds like she's teething alright…you should probably get her this numbing potion, dip your finger in it and rub it on her gums, it's harmless and helps with the pain…oh and a teething ring. Put a cooling charm on it, it'll help too."

So I do what any young mother would do…I dress the temperamental Lizzie up, brush her blonde hair, put some socks on her little feet, leave a message with Draco's secretary telling him about what transpired this morning, and I take her out to Diagon Alley where I proceed to buy at least half a year's worth of numbing potion and to muggle London where I proceed to purchase at least six teething rings, all different, and all these soft toys she can chew on.

When I stop by Draco's job because he wants to see us and go to lunch, I'm holding two brown bags of toys in one hand and Lizzie in the other, he asks me, "Don't you think you went just a _bit_ overboard with the scented teething ring?"

Actually, I don't think so, but I think he already knows that.

Lunch is good. Lizzie is happy to see her daddy, I detect from his affectionate smiles that he's happy to see her too. From his kiss that temporarily makes me forget my name, I deduce he's happy to see me as well. It's actually nice being out, just the three of us, having a normal family lunch in a muggle restaurant.

Family…wow, we're a _family_. It's amazing that I've never really thought of that until right now. All we need is a white picket fence (which Draco will never go for) and dog named Grover or Clifford or something like that.

"Maybe I'll just skip the rest of my meetings and come with you to check out the house," Draco says absently after the waitress walks off with our orders. He's just noticed Lizzie's _"I love my daddy"_ bib she's currently wearing and smirks, but says nothing on the matter.

Takes a sip of water, "I wouldn't complain, you've been awfully busy these days, you're up before I am and you get back right before Lizzie goes to sleep…working on another merger?"

He smirks at the baby staring up at him, "Something along those lines…"

My brow nearly touches my hairline in suspicion, but I move on, "Blaise was telling me that you all are having an office party today."

Draco grunts, "All the more reason to leave early."

"True," I smile and proceed with sarcasm dripping off my words, "but it's_ very_ unlike Draco Malfoy to miss a party."

He smirks.

Lizzie, who is better now with a little numbing potion, attracts a lot of attention because she's so cute and talkative, but charming waitresses and other customers is a bit tiring for our baby girl and she ends up falling asleep halfway through, in her daddy's arms, after her bottle and a little more numbing potion on her aching gums.

After paying, he rests her back in the stroller and I kiss him softly outside the restaurant. Draco doesn't look happy to go back to work and looks slightly glum to see us go, but I'm sure it's because he hates these office parties.

I arrive at the house to find that it looks beautiful. As I'm walking to the door, one of the neighbors walks by, pushing a stroller, and introduces herself as Helen and her one-year-old son, Tyler to me and Lizzie who is fresh awake from her nap and looking bleary-eyed.

She lives two doors down from us and has been trying to meet us since we started construction on the house.

She gasps when I tell her how old I am and tells me, "I knew you looked young, but I didn't think you were as young as you really are." Helen is a sweet muggle, who spends her time running after kids and is thrilled to have adult conversation…about kids.

I like her.

"Oh, she's just too adorable, what's her name?"

"Elizabeth."

She smiles like she's seeing the most precious sight in the world, "I've _always_ wanted a little girl. I've got four boys: 10, 8, 5, and 1…and don't get me wrong, I love them all, but I've always wanted a little girl."

Four boys? She has four boys? Is she insane? Sweet Merlin. I whistle under my breath, "Wow, that's a lot of boys."

"Is she your only child?"

Smiles adoringly at Lizzie, "Yes, she's my one and only."

Helen smiles as well, "Do you work?"

"Yes, I'm a—" I pause and try to think of something to replace healer with, "Just got out of PA school and I work for the hospital just up the street. I started college at sixteen." There, that sounds good, especially that last part. I had to add that because her brows furrowed when I said PA school. Now she won't have to call me doctor and it's believable. Helen nods understandingly, "Do you?"

"No, I take care of the kids, which keeps me busy enough."

"I can imagine. Four boys…whew, I applaud you."

"Well, what does your," discreetly, she glances at my hand, but I see her, "fiancé do?"

The white lie just rolls off my tongue, "He works for a bank…your husband?"

"He's an architect…when are you all moving in?"

I reply, excited, "Two and a half weeks."

Helen smiles, "Well, I'll definitely be seeing you again, Hermione. You and your fiancé and your adorable baby girl should definitely drop by for dinner once you're all settled."

I smile genuinely, "I'd like that."

We exchange goodbyes and she walks on with her son.

I walk into the house with a smile on my face, greeting a few of the workers left putting the finishing touches on the house.

The foyer is stunning. Mahogany, polished floors are a contrast to the cream walls. The chandelier just enhances the beauty of the room.

I walk straight back and take in the family room. It's plain, the walls are a vibrant red, but with a few pictures on the wall and some furniture and a television, it's going to be just perfect.

Much to Draco's slight annoyance, the kitchen is yellow because it is the brightest room in the house, next to the family room. This side of the house catches a lot of light.

I step out onto the finished and stained patio and I look out at the sizeable backyard where in a few short years, Lizzie will be out there, running around, climbing the few trees, as disconcerting it is, it's creeping up on us. Lizzie will be six months old in two weeks. Half a year old…Merlin, these months have gone by fast.

Upstairs is wonderful.

We decided to convert the bonus room into a library…hehe, okay, that was more of my decision. Draco just rolls his eyes of course and mutters something about me being such a bookworm, but the next day, bookshelves are being set up.

Next stop: the nursery. It's been painted the same color as we did the flat and I decided white walls of the bedroom suit it perfectly because of the copious amount of lighting. It makes the room very calming.

"Lizzie, you like your new house?"

Of course, she babbles some response and sticks her finger in her mouth.

Next week, Draco and I are going out and purchasing all the furniture…at one time. He's not the shopping type, but I've convinced him we do need furniture and those need trump the need for him to stay _out_ of the furniture store.

Lizzie is babbling more than ever by the time we get back home later on this afternoon.

With a wiggling baby in one arm and the bags from our shopping, it's a fight to get the front door open, but I manage.

All is silent and I think no one is home until I hear a loud and angry-sounding Ginny Weasley yell, "Fine then, since you want to be such a prick, Harry—I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on Earth!"

_Say what?_

I sit the bag down, pull a teething ring out for Lizzie to chew on because I'm thinking this is going to take a while to clear up, and adjust the wiggler on my hip again before making a grand entrance. Pansy and Ron are sitting on the floor in front of the armchair, sitting in Indian-style and watching helplessly as the war rages in the kitchen.

Ginny and Harry, who represents both sides of the war, are standing on either side of the kitchen table, both red-faced and angry. His arms are folded and she's been crying.

"What's going on here?" I speak slowly.

Pansy gets up, happy to see a fresh face and takes Lizzie, whispering, "Good luck with this lot," before she and Ron scatter together to the nursery with Lizzie, probably to play "let's roll over"…which is currently Lizzie's favorite game.

You should see it when Draco plays it with her. _Hilarious_.

Ginny bursts into tears, "W-we were w-w-walking together in Diagon Alley and w-we ran into Anthony Goldstein, you r-remember, I dated him while Harry and I were on that b-b-break, right?"

I nod my head slowly, wondering just what she's getting at.

"Well, he tells Harry, right in front of me, that we slept together," her brown eyes shoot to Harry, "which is a total lie!"

Harry rolls his eyes, "Why would he lie about something like that?"

From this point on, I decide to keep my mouth shut and watch the tennis match.

"Oh, I don't know Harry," Ginny starts sarcastically, "I dropped him like a bad habit right _before_ we got engaged. Maybe he's trying to piss you off and make you consider canceling the wedding…which he did a right fine job of doing!"

Stubbornly, "Oh, please, Ginny he had a date that it happened on!"

"He had a bunch to choose from! Hermione was five months pregnant when we got engaged. We'd been apart for five months! Are you _really_ this stupid and gullible?"

"You're lying to me!"

Ginny is almost pleading with him, "I'm not!"

And Harry is stubborn, like a rabid bull, "Yes you are!"

"I just can't believe you'd take his word over mine! I thought we loved each other! I thought we had trust, if I did it Harry I would be woman enough to tell you, but I didn't! I didn't do anything with him! I never even considered it! I loved you, Harry, always have!"

Grumbles, "Well, I never thought that my fiancé would be sleeping around—"

"I was not sleeping around! I was just dating! I didn't even kiss any of them, except on the cheek! There was no sleeping around! And we weren't even engaged! We weren't even together!"

"You're right, we weren't together, but I didn't sleep with anyone!"

"Neither did I, Harry!"

"Then how does he know about the freckles on your back?"

Ginny takes a breath. A deep one. It's the breath almost identical to the one I take right before I try and throttle Draco for whatever reason, "You can't be—if I wear a halter top, _anyone_ can see the freckles on my back, you dolt!" she makes a fist as her head whirls in my direction, "Hermione, please talk some sense into him before I do a tap dance on his _face_!"

I choose my words wisely because I really hate being in the middle of two fighting friends, but this matter will never be resolved if I don't step in, "Harry, Ginny only went out with him one time—"

Of course, Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, does not let me finish, "You're just taking up for her!"

Ginny slams her hand onto the table and releases a frustrated groan that almost turns into a full-fledged scream, like one of those cathartic screams therapists in movies tell their patients to do. She's pulling the ends of her hair in frustration as she screams and I think my best friend has gone off the deep end, again.

But her voice is very calm when she speaks, "I am sick of this shit, Harry. Call off the wedding, shred the invitations, cancel the catering, return the dress, I don't give a shit. I'm through fighting with someone who doesn't make sense. If you want to listen to everyone else, if you want to trust everyone else over me, we shouldn't be getting married anyway."

And she does the hardest thing she's ever had to do in twenty years of life.

She walks away from Harry Potter…_without_ hitting him or doing a Riverdance on his glasses.

Her bedroom door shuts and moments later, I hear and see Pansy sneak into the room.

She makes a signal, letting me know Ron is in there with Lizzie…and I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Last time Lizzie was alone with Ron he gave her a sugar quill and I nearly flipped out. Before I could scream, Draco mutters a quick _"silencio"_ and I launched into a silent tirade while Ron gaes Draco a thankful look. He merely shrugged.

Enough about that, I have a relationship to fix.

I turn to one of my oldest and dearest friends, "Harry."

"What?" He snarls…_snarls_…did he transfer back to 5th year when he was being possessed by Voldemort?

"Leave the snarling to Draco, he does it so much better, you sound constipated…" he looks up at me, a bit humored, and I see that as permission to continue, "I want you to listen to me…would I ever lie to you?"

His answer is automatic, "Of course not."

"I'm telling you the truth. I don't think this has a thing to do with Anthony and whether or whether not Ginny had sex with him, but we'll get back to that in a moment."

Harry just stares at me with this flabbergasted look that says, _"Do you know everything?"_ No, I don't. Harry, but I will one day. That's my quest.

"Let's start off at the fact that she didn't sleep with him. Proof: they only went out once, it was for lunch…the day of my accident, and she left him to come to me and she spent the rest of that night with me. And then we spent the rest of the time plotting on how I was going to tell Draco I was keeping the baby…there is no way she could've slept with him."

Color drains from Harry's face, "W-why didn't she tell me?"

"I'm sure she tried to, but you were being a stubborn, daft git who is not too keen on listening," I sit down and cross my legs, "Did you honestly think for a second that Ginny would—"

"He was right there. Telling me to my face—"

"More like lying to your face," I snort, "Ginny has been in love with you since she was ten-years-old and yes, Harry, there have been others in her life, but you have her heart. What you accused her of is horrible and I'm disappointed in you, but you need to tell me what else is going on."

Harry plops down in a chair and drops his head in his hands, "God, 'Mione…I was starting to get cold feet and he said that and I just flipped. I just lost it and apparated here and started screaming at her."

"So you had cold feet, Ginny does too…all someone has to do is say the word _wedding_ and she turns this unbelievable shade of green. She's _nervous_, but you don't see her shouting at you, accusing you of sleeping with Cho Chang. We are best friends, Harry, but she is your _fiancée_ and you should be as open with her about your feelings as you are with me. You are supposed to trust her like you trust me. You're supposed to be there for each other, lean on each other when one of you is feeling weak; you're not supposed to push her away because you have cold feet. If that's how it's going to be then maybe you shouldn't get married," he looks at me, wide-eyed from my words, "But," I pick up, ignoring his looks, "If you are willing to swallow your pride, go after her, admit your faults, confide your fears…then maybe you two have a shot in—"

Harry gets up and apparates into Ginny's room before I can finish. I'm surprised that she didn't put wards up...she must be in a forgiving mood.

Pansy comes sneaking out a few minutes later and gives me one thumb to the side.

Well at least it's not thumbs down. That means they're talking at least…or Harry's groveling.

I shake my head, "Those crazy kids."

A somewhat humored voice speaks up after a moment of silence, "Do you talk to yourself all the time? If so, Hermione, I may be forced to reconsider my proposal."

Ignoring his comment with a roll of my eyes, my head whirls around and I smile at Draco, who still hasn't kicked his habit of looking like a crypt-keeper, "And exactly how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that Potter and Ginny are fighting and you _still_ talk to yourself," he evenly replies with a smirk as he approaches the table. I stand to greet him and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close but not too. I look him in the eyes after he presses his lips to my forehead. Something is a bit different about him and I'm determined to figure him out.

"Ha, ha, Draco," I roll my eyes sarcastically, "Real funny, you should be a comedian."

"I should."

With a quick glance to the clock on the wall behind his head, I smile, "You're home four hours early."

Shrugs, but doesn't let me go, "Decided to start my retirement a bit early."

I stick my fingers in my ears because I don't think I've heard him correctly, "Umm…retirement?"

He smirks, "Yes. I decided to retire."

Blink. Blink. Double blink. Triple blink. Quad—

Another stupid smirk, "Is there something wrong with your eyes? You seem to have a blinking problem."

I'm just going to ignore that. Slowly, I find my voice that was lost, "A-and you were going to tell me…when?"

Draco pastes an innocent look on his face that reminds me of Lizzie right before she does something Slytherin—like dropping a bomb of spit on Dean's forehead or that time she peed on Ron during a standard diaper change—and shrugs, "Surprise?"

I stare at him for a moment, confused by his…well, _everything_.

Again, I have to find my voice that likes to run away from me, "Su—surprise? I _hate_ surprises, thought you knew that…_retirement_?"

"It's only partial; consider it a working retirement…wait a second,_ Blaise_ didn't tell you?" his eyebrow cocks, "He tells you every bloody thing else I don't want you to know and he _didn't_ tell you this? Interesting…my best friend is losing his touch. I wonder…" he pretends to rub his chin pensively.

Of course, I just stare at Draco Malfoy like he's gone completely nutters.

His actions as of late are really making me question my fiancé's sanity…and whether he had any of it to begin with. With the proposal that he apparently spent two _weeks_ on…for Merlin's sake, how hard is it to say _"marry me"_…well about as hard for me to say yes, so I suppose I can't fault him there.

But this whole deal with this retirement…what in the hell? Draco Malfoy is and always will be a workaholic. Workaholics don't retire at twenty-two.

_Normal_ people don't retire at twenty-two…but I can safely say Draco isn't normal and that, my friends, is his charm.

Still, despite his arms still being around me, my hands fly to my hips. "Of course he didn't t—" My mind wanders back to that day of our heart-to-heart right before Lizzie was born. He was trying to tell me something about Draco and work, but we were interrupted by Pansy and Luna. Perhaps he was trying to tell me then.

"Well, as shocked as I am that my blabbermouth best friend didn't blab to you, I have to admit, telling you myself is more rewarding than I originally thought…your face is priceless."

I scowl, "You could've at least talked to me about it…I just saw you four hours ago at lunch. You could've told me then."

Another shrug, "Yes, I could've, but you would've asked me fifty million questions about it and then tried to talk me out of it when my mind was clearly made up on the matter, I would've gotten mad and snapped, you would've snapped back and we would've had a repeat of that day in the coffee shop, only with a baby this time, and I like not going back to the office with a hand-print on my face, thank you very much. Had enough questions the last time around."

Damn, he's right…about everything. Does he honestly know me this well?

"Besides," Draco presses on, "I still have to go in a twice a week for board meetings because I'm still on the board of trustees and I'm still the owner, just a co-owner now."

"Well, who's running everything now?"

"Blaise…who else would I trust my company to? He bought 49 percent of the company from me, he likes the job more than I do, and we still have to meet together to work on plans for the company, once a week, over dinner, at home. We hired a new guy to do Blaise's old job and training him is what's been keeping me away."

Nice to know, "But why—"

Draco brushes my hair off my shoulder and puts his hand back around me, "To be honest, I don't have a reason to work anymore. The company is uncorrupted and I'm raking in millions of galleons, even in my sleep. I confess the paternity leave spoiled me, but I don't want some muggle daycare raising my daughter when you go back to work, I'd rather do it myself," There is a pause because I think he's letting it all sink in with me…and then he shrugs, "And there's a bunch of other stuff I want to do. Invent a new potion, do some traveling, learn a new language, maybe work on giving Lizzie a few more brothers and sisters—" Draco wiggles his eyebrow.

"A few more…" I look at him hard for a second, "Exactly _how_ many children do you want?"

He looks away, "A few."

I grab his chin gently and force him to look at me, "What's a few, Draco?"

Pauses and mumbles, "Like three or four…more like four."

My eyes nearly pop out their sockets, "Three or four children…you're barmy in the head, Draco, if you think I'm having four kids! One is ideal. Two is okay. Three I'd consider. Four is out of the question." I shudder at the thought of stretch marks and the weight gain and the heartburn and the cravings and the morning sickness and the crying/rage intervals.

Times four? No thank you.

He rolls his eyes and speaks in a very silky voice, "Whatever you say."

I huff, "Yes it—"

I'm silenced with a kiss.

Merlin, I'll never be used to this.

* * *

Good? I was a bit iffy with the second part of this chapter, to be honest. 


	16. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I own nothing, J.K. Rowling does.

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! Draco has retired from the day-to-day mundane office activities, but he's not retired from the business. He still works, but not as often as he used to, he works on his own time and with his own schedule so he can take care of Lizzie. Probably should've cleared that up better, my mistake. Anywho, I'm still working on 16 and since I suspect it may be a second, I am going to go ahead and post 15. This chapter is the prelude to the next (which is the reintroduction of Hermione's dad).

There is a smut alert on the second part entitled "Bedroom Talk". It's a scene I've _always_ wanted to write since I started writing Dramione fiction and a bit different from my usual smut, but I hope you all like it all the same.

That's all for now. Please review. Happy reading. Peace...until next time.

* * *

_And when the stars are shining brightly in the velvet sky,  
I'll make a wish, send it to heaven then make you want to cry.  
The tears of joy for all the pleasure in the certainty,  
That we're surrounded by the comfort and protection of  
The highest power, in lonely hours, the tears devour you_

"_Truly, Madly, Deeply"—Savage Garden_

_(Two weeks later: August 7__th)_

Ginny Weasley is fading right before my eyes.

She's becoming Ginny Potter and I have tears in my eyes…

Minister Shacklebot starts, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to unite Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Weasley…"

…well, let's just ignore the fact that I've had tears in my eyes since this morning. Seriously, everytime Draco has seen me he's handed me a tissue…and I've seen him quite frequently this morning too.

Let's just say that with him making sure everything's going well with the house elves (who are "catering" the reception) and making sure the decorators he hired put the decorations up correctly and me being the perfectionist I am, we see each other on quite a few occasions.

Draco _always_ has Lizzie, who still favors him more and more with each passing day much to my consternation, in his arms. He's fiercely protective of the little wiggler and even when she falls asleep, he still carries her around. It's adorable that she clutches to his robes so tightly so I don't feel too annoyed.

She's definitely going to be a daddy's girl, for sure…

"…a good and balanced relationship is one in which neither person is overpowered nor absorbed by the other, one in which neither person is possessive of the other, one in which both give their love freely and without jealousy. Marriage, ideally, is a sharing of responsibilities, hopes, and dreams. It takes a special effort to grow together, survive hard times, and be loving and unselfish and these two have done just that…"

I smile because Shacklebot's words sound so similar to the ones I said to Ginny last night.

She looks back at me and we exchange soft smiles.

Last night, the four of us slept in another wing of the Malfoy manor and just talked about everything we could think of; giggling, playing games, telling secrets, and our favorite, the "If" game.

I'll be the first to confess that I did sneak into Draco's room to snog him until he couldn't think straight in the middle of the night. Can't help myself, _really_, but what makes the site simply adorable is Lizzie sleeping on the pillow next to him, pacifier in mouth.

It's the first time we haven't slept in the same bed since we the row about my dad and I think me sleeping with him every night has him spoiled.

As Harry and Ginny exchange pre-written vows (a last minute decision stemmed from the major fight that almost ended their relationship) in the beautifully decorated maroon and cream oasis garden of the Malfoy manor, they are surrounded by at least a hundred guests and three bridesmaids and groomsmen.

Ginny is a vision in ivory and I really think Harry got a bit teary-eyed when he saw her come down the aisle, though he'll never admit it. But its okay, he looks wonderful in black robes.

Luna, Pansy, and I stand faithfully on Ginny's side, all of us in strapless knee-length dresses and holding cream and maroon rose bouquets. Ron, Neville, and George are behind Harry. During their vows, I lean over at just the exact time and exchange smiles with Ron. I'm maid of Honor and he's the best man and neither of us could be happier about this union that's been long in the making.

"These rings are blessed as a symbol of your union as man and wife. As often as either of you look upon these rings, may you not be reminded of only this moment, but also of the vows you have made and the strength of your commitment to each other…"

I confess, after that smile and handing Ginny the ring, my mind wanders through the years, through our entire friendship.

Acquaintances in her 1st and 2nd year at Hogwarts, we don't really become close until her 3rd year, when my life is hell because of I'm developing feelings for Ron as well as Victor Krum…and she was madly trying to suppress her crush on Harry and not to mention getting over that whole Voldemort possession thing her 1st year.

She was and still is a bright point in my life when everything was really bad and part of me feels like I'm losing her today and my heart grieves, but I know I'm not.

Not really.

Yes, after almost three years, we won't be living together anymore after tomorrow afternoon, our boxes are packed and mostly all of my stuff has been moved into the finished house. We're both growing up and moving forward with our lives and besides, Ginny and Harry live about ten minutes away anyway, in a stunning red brick home Harry bought her as a wedding present.

No, nobody can keep us too far apart.

We'll still go on morning jogs with Pansy, have breakfast together, girly movie nights with just the four of us, lunches, and I'll definitely be cheering my head off at every Quidditch match I can get to. And that's what makes me get through the wedding without many tears, okay, that and the overwhelming amount of happiness I feel for her and Harry…not to mention the sight of Draco dressed in black robes and a shockingly quiet Lizzie in his arms in her cute cream dress on the front row, amongst the Weasleys.

Draco makes Lizzie wave at me and all I can do from that point on is smile.

"Go and live in love, sharing the most precious gifts you have—the gift of life. And may your days be long on this earth. I now pronounce you man and wife…Harry, it gives me great pleasure to say this…you may _finally_ kiss your bride…"

I don't get a chance to see Draco or Lizzie after the ceremony.

After the introduction of Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter and the recessional, Ginny and Harry disappear for a few quiet moments alone before the start of the reception, Pansy and Ron take the task of leading everyone inside (arm in arm, of course), Luna helps, and I try to wait around for Draco.

But it becomes really hectic as a hundred or so people make their way inside the manor, commenting on how elegant and magnificent Ginny looks even with the tears in her eyes, the look of awe on Harry's face when he saw her, how wonderful the ceremony was, and the beauty of the manor's garden.

A slew of old school friends, mostly Gryffindors, excluding Blaise, and a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, are here and they all want to chat about the wedding and I'm far too happy to be mean. It takes a while, but everyone comes out of the gardens and into the manor's largest ballroom.

I'm so busy directing people that I miss them.

The ceiling is enchanted much like the ceiling in the Great Hall and it's charmed to make it look like they're still outside. It's so bright and sunny. The reception is spectacular; it's better than I could ever imagine and Pansy isn't the only one who looks moved by the sight. "Oohs" and "Ahhs" can be heard all over the place. The floor is wooden and the walls in the room are charmed to be cream and there are maroon and cream decorations hanging everywhere.

Half of the room is decorated with sixteen circular tables with eight chairs around them, cream tablecloths, and maroon and cream centerpieces. Elevated off the floor is the semi-long rectangular table I'll be sitting at with the bride and groom, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as well as the other bridesmaids and groomsmen.

Every person has been assigned a table and once I step up and settle in my seat, I look at table one and smile at the sight of Lizzie in her highchair and Draco. They're sitting with Blaise, Anne, Andromeda, Percy, Bill, a pregnant Fleur, and Charlie. They've all adjusted so Lizzie can fit. Teddy, Victorie (Bill and Fleur's little girl who didn't attend the shower because she was in France), and Ella are sitting at the children's table.

The other half of the ballroom is the dance floor. The DJ booth is the exact one Blaise used the night of Draco's birthday party. He's the DJ and if I know him as well as I do, he's going to start conservative and then when everyone has enough firewhiskey in them, he's going to really get the party started.

But not right now.

Right now, we're all clapping as the newlyweds walk in and take their seats, Ginny's right next to me and I hug her.

Everything is just wonderful. With a clap of Ginny's hand, something she's waited to do all day with excitement, the food appears in front of everyone and I hear gasps of approval and amazement. Chattering is persistent as everyone eats and after a half an hour, Ginny's parents give the initial toasts to the bride and groom…and by the time speeches come, I'm gripping my paper, slightly nervous as I stand for the first speech.

"So," I start and look down at my two dearest friends who haven't wiped the smile off their faces since they sat down, "I had this wonderful speech written, but I think I'm not going to use it. Harry you are one of my best friends and I love you like you were my own little brother…"

Harry grins.

"…we've been through a lot together since you and Ron saved me from that troll in the girl's bathroom 1st year. It's been a rollercoaster ride full of adventures, sadness, sorrow, pain, but also happiness, love, laughter, fun, and an enormous amount of research—"

The entire room laughs at this; Harry, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny especially.

When they calm down I continue, "…and though we spent times wondering if we were going to make it out of this mess alive, I never for a_ moment_ lost my faith in the fact that you were going to get your happy ending, the happy ending you so deserve. And I'm so thrilled that it's with Ginny. She is the best, loyal, friendly, honest, helpful, sassy person I know. Take care of her; she is a little sensitive and stubborn and she can't cook eggs for anything—"

A resounding laugh breaks out and Ginny glares playfully, but laughs because she knows it's true.

"Trust her as you trust me and Ron, love her like you've never loved another, let her be your tower of strength, be her protector when she needs one, be open and honest with her, and finally, be happy together…"

He nods and wraps his arm around his new wife. I look at Ginny and my eyes well with tears.

"Ginny," I have to clear my voice because it breaks when our eyes meet, "Look at you! You look amazing. I know I've been saying that all day, but you do. I can't believe you're finally married. I always knew you'd be the first one between us four…granted you did get a head start on the serious relationship bid…"

She smiles. Some people chuckle.

"…no words can express what you mean to me, Gin. None. We may not be blood related, but you are my blood and my sister in every sense and definition of the word. And during the ceremony, my mind wandered through the years, back to the point where we met and became friends. You were, are, and always will be my confidant, my rock, one of the godmother to my pride and joy, the one who makes me laugh when all I want to do is cry, the one who comforts me when everything is awry, and I'm honored to be your best friend and touched to be your maid of honor…"

I hear Pansy start to sniffle and Ginny's eyes fill with tears and if she starts, I know I'll start crying too.

"…I confess I was a bit sad at the ceremony, I sort of felt like this was the end and I was losing you, but now, I realize that this is just the beginning of everything and that nothing is really changing. Ginny, you know like I know that Harry is about as stubborn as they come, be patient with him, he means well and he has a heart of pure gold. He will jump from point A to point Z in about half a second and I know this may be hard, but _please_ don't do a Riverdance on his glasses—"

Everyone nearly dies laughing at this.

"…with every fiber of my being and with everything I could possibly offer, I wish you both the best. I want everyone to raise their glasses," I pick mine up just as everyone else does, "To the bride and groom."

The entire room echoes, "To the bride and groom."

My speech is the last sentimental one. Ron is next and of course he didn't write one like I did and stumbles through his speech, making everyone laugh as he goes into some detail about the crazy things he and Harry have done together and how even though Ginny is a pain sometimes, as all little sisters are, he wishes them the best. George makes everyone nearly die laughing at his antics during his toast. Pansy gets up and gives a sweet, but hilarious speech and Luna gives a strange one because she's Luna Lovegood and that's what she does, that's why we love her so much.

As others give Ginny and Harry toasts, everyone begins to relax and unwind and hilarity sets in. It's all in good fun and relatively good taste and I find myself grinning like crazy when Lizzie starts babbling and Andromeda says, "I guess that was her wishing you two the best," and everyone awes. Draco and I exchange small smiles.

Now that the last of the speeches is finished, the cake has been cut and dispensed, and wedding photos taken, Blaise starts the music for Harry and Ginny's first dance as husband and wife. The first sounds of music seem to stir everyone from post-cake cutting conversation. We all stand around and watch him, not so awkwardly thanks to dance lessons, sway with her on the dance floor, the sight is beautiful and I smile and look around for Draco and I don't see him.

Next, Ron and I, as maid of honor and best man, have to take the floor for the next dance with the bride and groom. Ron is not the best dancer and steps on my foot quite a few times. He's been trying to learn from Pansy, bless his heart…or should I say bless hers?

After the dance concludes, Blaise puts on something a little more hype and the firewhiskey is distributed at enormous rates. Everyone crowds the floor and a few songs later, the party is slowly starting to come alive. Jackets and ties come off and I find myself on the sidelines smiling, watching Luna dance with her boyfriend, Andrew. They're doing some weird dance which involves her spinning around in circles and him doing something that looks like the Thriller dance.

Ginny and Harry make rounds all over the room and I stand on the sidelines, looking around for my own fiancé.

I feel him behind me before he speaks lowly in my ear, "Looking for someone?"

Even though I feel his presence, my body still warms at his voice. I don't turn around or he'll see the smirk on my face, but instead, I speak in playful tones, "Yes, I'm looking for my sexy fiancé. You've probably seen him…red hair, freckles, goes by the name of George, he's got blue eyes and he's not pale and creepy like that crypt-keeper looking bloke, what's his name again? Oh yes, the Amazing Bouncing F—"

Draco spins me around and kisses me firmly and asks darkly, his lips inches from mine, "Think you're so goddamn funny, huh, _Granger_?"

Smirking like mad, "I don't think…I _know_ I'm goddamn funny, _Malfoy_…where's Lizzie?"

"Being coddled by my aunt and poked at by Teddy. He was wondering where her teeth were when I left."

"Oh no," The last time Teddy wonders this is about two days ago, during the walk-through of the ceremony.

After Anne tells him to stop at least three times, he defiantly shoves his finger in Lizzie's mouth and she gets mad and gnaws him, hard. Shackelbot is speaking directions to all of us when all of a sudden we hear this piercing screams of pain. Teddy screams for at least ten minutes and Lizzie sits on Anne's lap and just watches him with wide, innocent grey eyes. At one point she smiles at the shrieking boy, a bit of drool running from the corner of her mouth.

Yet another example of some disturbing Slytherin behavior, Draco loves it immensely.

"Don't worry about it, he's four and stubborn, he won't remember the traumatic event," he takes my hand once a slow song comes on and gently tugs, "Let's dance."

I look at him crazy, "Since when do Malfoys dance?"

"Since now," he growls in his usual manner as he pulls me onto the floor.

"You're unusually bossy, I thought that was my job in this relationship," I chide gently.

He smirks and silences me with a kiss. As he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer, I wrap both my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss in what is a rare moment of PDA between the two of us.

I'm flushed when he pulls away, and look him in the eyes, "I'm surprised you're not upstairs, hiding away."

Draco merely shrugs, leans in and whispers seductively, his lips inches from my ear, "I would've been, but I'm having a better time watching you in that dress and counting down the hours until I can take it off with my teeth," he nibbles my earlobe for good measure.

_Holy shit._

The combination of the nibbling and the images in my head make my body, my thoughts, and my bloody knees turn to mush and I have to cling to him because I'm sure I'm going to fall over.

I fan myself, "Didn't know you were such a flirt."

His lips are inches from mine, "You learn something new everyday."

My stomach pools around my ankles and I find myself weakly replying, "I suppose."

Draco's lips press against my forehead, his voice hits my ears again like silk and I shut my eyes, "Although, I personally think you look better in green."

Snorts softly, eyes still shut, "You would say that, biased Slytherin."

Draco chuckles lightly in my ear as his hand travel down my back slowly, "As cunning and ambitious as you were back then, I'm surprised you weren't in Slytherin…would've made things a lot easier if you were in my own house."

My eyes open wide, eyebrow threatens to touch the charmed ceiling of the ballroom, "Easier? I would've been _crucified_ for my blood status and you know it."

"True…" he pauses and whispers in my ears, "but when I used to fantasize about you in 5th year, I'd only see you in a Slytherin jumper. Worked like a charm everytime."

My mouth goes suddenly very dry.

We're not particularly fond of the next song and I don't think I can stand much longer with all his whispering and kissing, so we sit it out and go on a quest to find Lizzie and quickly locate her in Anne's arms, sleeping, while about seven or eight witches, some of them I recognize from Bill and Fleur's wedding, fawn over her. How she can sleep with this noise and not when someone drops a squeaky toy twenty feet from her crib is a mystery to me.

"She's just adorable—"

"Lizzie looks so much like her daddy—"

"Just precious—"

"She's an angel—"

"I can't believe she's almost six months old—"

They're all speaking at once and before they can drag us into questioning, Draco slips away and I take Lizzie with the excuse that she needs to be put down for her nap.

My eyes spot Draco quickly. He's kneeling in front of Teddy who is holding his bandaged finger for Draco to see. I'm sure his finger is just fine, it's probably some form of appeasement after Lizzie, I suspect, gnaws him again for sticking his stubborn little fingers in her mouth. I stand there and watch Teddy and Draco interact. Teddy is insisting Draco kiss his finger to make it better and Draco, after giving the little boy a stern look a few times, begrudgingly gives in.

I giggle under my breath.

"Oi! 'Mione!" Pansy calls as she runs across the dance floor to me, "Are you going to put Lizzie down for a nap?"

I nod, "How are the dancing lessons with Ron?" I adjust the sleeping baby in my arms. For a second, I wonder what she dreams about. She moves her hands in her sleep sometimes, like she's trying to capture a butterfly that's just out of her reach or like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn. Merlin, it's adorable.

"Abysmal," her voice interrupts my thoughts, "I had to relinquish him to Luna to spare my feet," but she smiles proudly and gives him one good look, "He'll get better though, with time."

"Oh, the eternal optimist," I chide playfully, "C'mon, Pans, walk with me."

Eagerly, she agrees, blowing one last kiss to Ron who is dancing with a serene Luna, probably stepping on her feet too and walks with me. We're heading up the grand staircase when Pansy asks, "So, when are you and Draco tying the knot?"

Shrugs and adjusts Lizzie so her head is resting in the crook of my neck. She sighs a little and I touch her head to comfort her, "We haven't talked about it much," I reply in softer tones, rubbing her back, "to be honest. He wants me to at least _try_ to patch things up with my dad before we start making plans."

Pansy's face does little to hide her shock, "How eerily mature of him."

"I know right, that's exactly what I was thinking when he told me," my hand brushes Lizzie's blonde hair softly, "but I understand why he's doing this, I really do…I may not be my dad's biggest fan right now, but I know I'll regret it if something happens to him while we're fighting and he never gets a chance to meet Lizzie."

Her voice is soft, but it still echoes off the high walls of the hallways, "Why don't you just bite the bullet and go to him?"

I shrug and turn down one of the massive hallways, heading straight for the nursery, "I don't know. Part of me wants him to come to me, it is the mature adult thing to do…but part of me knows that being a mature adult sadly is something that dad isn't capable of. He_ knows_ Anne comes and visits me, he _knows_ about Lizzie, he _even_ knows about Nott's attack and the severity of it, but did he come to check on his only daughter? No. He didn't. He didn't care, probably thought of it as something I brought on myself for deciding to have a baby out of wedlock," I shake my head sadly, "And it hurts. He's supposed to be my dad, but I don't think he's been my dad since my mum died. I don't think he knows _how_. And as much as I hate him, I pity him and I pity Anne for loving such a cold man. And because of this pity, I find myself wanting to be the better person and fixing this one myself. I want to let him see that Lizzie isn't a mistake but a captivating and beautiful little girl. I want him to see that Draco is indeed here for the long haul. And I want to show him that I'm immensely happy with the way things turned out…and hope for the best."

Pansy is silent for a moment, "Well I guess we're down to one question."

"And what's that?"

"Which side to listen to?"

"Sadly I don't have an answer," I push open the door and smile at Pinky who is cleaning the nursery, "Hi, Pinky." I greet the elf right before placing Lizzie in the crib. She stirs some and Pansy has to gently pry her little fingers off my dress, but eventually she's settled. Like I do when there are a lot of people in the house, I cast a protection charm over the crib and ask Pinky to please watch her and don't let anyone who isn't either me or Draco near the crib and to inform us when she wakes.

Pinky nods obediently.

Conversation back to the reception lightens.

She's in full-on chatter mode about Ron and their relationship and how much she adores him, and her insecurities about becoming too clingy because she has a natural tendency to become clingy when she really likes someone.

"Pans…don't worry about it. Ron likes you, just go with the flow and don't overanalyze too many things."

She takes a breath, "Mum wants to meet him."

My eyes widen, "Does she know he's a W—"

Nods, "She's just happy he's a pureblood, to be honest…she also wants to meet Lizzie."

Of course, I stop dead when I hear this, "She wants to—wait, she won't even let _me_ on the property because I'm muggle-born and she wants to—does she_ honestly_ think I'd let her, no offense Pans, but does your mum think I'm stupid enough to let her prejudiced _arse_ meet my half-blood daughter? If so, she's more of a moron than I originally thought…no offense to that either, but seriously…"

"None taken," Pansy giggles, "I told her she'd had too many calming potions, which rendered her mentally unstable. She hasn't brought it up since."

I laugh heartily at this and link arms with her as we go downstairs.

"Hey, Pan?" I speak a few moments later, once we're at the bottom of the steps.

She looks at me, "Yeah."

"What are you doing tomorrow and do you work on Mondays?"

Shrugs, "Nope, I don't work until Wednesday. As for tomorrow, I'm chilling at home, go to the Burrow for dinner with Ron, go back home and do some more chilling with Ron who will probably be tired from moving Gin's stuff out the flat."

I smile because what she says is so true, "Can you do me a favor and take Lizzie tonight after the wedding and keep her until Monday morning? Blaise is helping Draco move the rest of my stuff out before they help tomorrow morning. I'm going to floo over there after the party is done."

"Yeah, sure, no problem, but I have to go home and make sure it's Lizzie-safe so I'll floo over to the flat and pick her up from there, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan…when are Ginny and Harry leaving for their honeymoon again?"

"Like tomorrow morning. Shame they're spending their wedding night packing."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll have some fun," I wiggle my eyebrow.

Pansy shrieks with laughter and nudges me playfully with her hip, "Just like you and Draco will without little Lizzie tonight."

"He did mention something about wanting to take my dress off with his teeth—"

She bursts into fits of laughter and halts right where she is, "He did_ not_ say that!"

"Oh," I laugh with her. There's a little couch where we are and we sit on it, "but he did…I would've never believed it had I not heard it with my own ears. Never knew him to be such a flirt."

"He's comfortable with you now, I've noticed, maybe that's why he's flirting more. He's more relaxed, like he doesn't have anything to worry about."

"Partial retirement does that to someone, I suppose, even though he does more than _I_ do these days," I shake my head, "I still can't believe he did it, but I support his decision, even though we didn't make the decision as a couple…I start back at St. Mungo's Monday after next and there's no one who can watch Lizzie through the day better than her daddy. I just _can't_ believe he came up with the idea on his own."

"I can," is Pansy's simple reply.

Turning to her, "You can?"

"Of course," she makes a face like _"Duh! Of course I can!"_ and proceeds, "Draco, for the first time in his life, is content. He doesn't _need_ to work; he's probably only doing as much as he is now because he wants to do it. After four years, he has you. He has Lizzie. You two are his family…he hasn't had one since his parents died. He's got more friends now than he's ever had in his life and that's thanks to you too. He has nearly a billion galleons and with Blaise, I'm sure he's going to make a few more. He doesn't need anything else. Draco Malfoy is happy and content."

"And how is it that you know all this, Pans?"

She turns serious, "I've known him all my life, Hermione. And yes, we did date ages ago, but he's one of my best friends when it's all said and done. I know him like you know Harry and I—did you_ honestly_ think that he bought your ring _alone_?"

My mouth falls, "You were with him?"

"Of course I was, silly!" she beams, "He was nervous as hell the entire time, thinking that maybe you'd catch him buying an engagement ring and get pissed—"

I snort because he was right to make that assumption.

She laughs and continues, "I was thinking of a gaudy ring, he was thinking elsewhere. I scoffed at that, I mean, what girl wouldn't like a bunch of diamonds? I know they're my best friend…next to you guys. When the lady at the shop asked him to describe you, he said that you were simple, strong, beguiling, willful, and he didn't want to get you a gaudy ring incase you ever decided to punch him in a fit of rage. Those rings tend to leave cuts. Note how smooth your diamond is, it won't harm him if you decide to hit him…its five and a half carats, you know…"

I nod. I did know that. The ring was too large because, as I found out later, he measured my finger in my sleep, and I weighed like thirty pounds more than I did at the time of his proposal. I got it adjusted the muggle way right after I accepted, they told me how much the ring was worth, and I nearly fainted.

"Anyway," Pansy breaks into my thoughts, "The real reason why I know he's content…he told me, in his own way that involved some snarling, cursing, and very Draco Malfoy behavior."

I can't stop laughing from this ridiculousness. Only Pansy would deduce that snarling, Malfoy behavior, and cursing as an admittance of contentment. But she is like Ginny in the sense that hardly anything gets past her. I can confess I can be a little blind to the obvious, only because it seems impossible and illogical to me.

Then, it seemed impossible that for Draco to care for me enough to try and make me stay that night in the study, it seemed illogical that he wanted to have a baby with me because that just went against what he was raised to believe in and I did too, and it seemed impossible that after everything we went through that he should want to marry me. _Me_.

But it was and is possible, logical, and very much a reality for me.

My eyes wander down to the ring, this is real and forever and it doesn't bother me much.

Pansy decides to change the subject because I am lost is a sea of thoughts, "Lizzie and I are going to have so much fun tonight."

"She's almost six months old…how exactly do you plan to have fun?"

"Easy," she gets up and pulls me up too; ready to go back to the party. Pansy claps her hands suddenly, "I can try new _hairstyles_ on her. It's going to be so fun!"

I fire a strange look her way when we link arms again, "Lizzie doesn't _have_ enough hair to style."

Snorts, "I beg to differ. A burette or two would look _lovely_ on little Lizzie's cute head."

"Definitely," I chuckle and snap my fingers, "Oh _yeah_," I remember suddenly, "One more thing…we're about the same size right?"

"Yeah, our dresses are the same size," she answers slowly like it's a trick question.

"Not a trick, I was wondering…do you have any of your old Slytherin jumpers that you can fit now?"

"Yeah," again, her response is slow and there's a growing look of confusion on her face, "I can still fit all my 7th year jumpers…why?"

"Can I borrow one of them…with the tie?"

Pansy's eyebrow rises slowly, her interest is piqued but she doesn't have to say anything else, "Sure…when do you want it?"

My answer is instant, "Tonight."

* * *

_I'm gonna tear your ass up like we just got married and you're all mine now  
Tonight is the night we've been waiting for all our lives…or maybe for just mine  
Get your ass up cause you're in no hurry like I am now  
I'm getting older and older all of the time…or maybe for just tonight_

"_Bedroom Talk"—The Starting Line_

_(The next evening: August 8__th)_

Some old habits die hard.

Tonight is the first night Draco and I will spend together in our new home…and where exactly am I?

Curled up in a comfortable chaise lounge in the library, the only room I've completely finished unpacking, book open, reading…albeit absently.

The walls are painted a shade of blue and the floor is wood with a great Moroccan rug spread across it, a gift from Anne years ago when we went to Morocco. Nine mahogany bookshelves line all four walls of this room and there are a lounge chair that's seating matches the walls as well as a matching love seat in the center of the room. The desk is by the door, next to the bookshelf and the top of the desk is lined with an encyclopedia set. With the natural lighting through the day and the light from the floor lamps at night, the room reminds me of a more intimate version of the Hogwarts library.

I like it. Between the two of us, we didn't have enough space for our books, so after organizing them by subject, author, and year of publication, I had to charm them to appear slimmer than they actually are and they will inflate to their regular size when someone tries to pull it out. In the event that a muggle pulls a book out, it will remain the same size as it does on the shelf.

Nifty little charm, huh? Draco thought so too. It's one of my own inventions…

Speaking of, he should be home in a minute.

He called to let me know everything was finally out of the flat and that I should tell Ginny (when she returns from her Honeymoon in Portugal) that she should be happy to have me as a friend because if it weren't for me, he would've _never_ helped her family move all her stuff out…well, that isn't exactly what he said.

Add a couple of shits and damns and that'll be closer to what he said. Apparently Ginny, even after spending half of her wedding night moving stuff, still has a lot of stuff. Not surprising.

While he goes on a mini-rant, all I can do is smile because it's hilarious being on the other end of a rant.

A few minutes later, I hear the front door shut.

I'm about to shut my book when I hear him call my name.

And I wait.

I wait for the pause. I wait to hear him come up the stairs. I wait for him to walk down the hall. I wait.

Draco sticks his head in the room and looks around before his eyes fall on me, "Herm…"

And as expected, his voice fades to dust when he sees me and his eyes nearly pop out.

_Well,_ I can't help but think with a smirk, _this worked out especially well._

After pressing them and staring at them for another ten minutes, about an hour ago, I put on Pansy's jumper, the pleated black skirt with the white blouse and the matching jacket that has the Slytherin emblem on the left breast pocket. And the green and silver tie, oh, let's not forget the knee-high socks and Mary Jane's. Pansy wore her skirts short and her shirts tight, but I'm thinking it's working to my advantage. To top off the vision, I frizz up my hair just a little, just like old times.

This is a bit different, for both of us, but the look on his face makes everything worth it.

Sitting the book on the table next to the chaise lounge, I stand up.

Draco hasn't spoken a word. He just keeps blinking with his mouth slightly ajar.

With each slow step I take towards him, I take in his appearance, eyes watching him almost hungrily. For the first time in as long as I've known him, Draco isn't wearing all black and he's not wearing a suit either; I nearly topple over at the sight. His skin is a bit flushed from the moving adventure today. He's causally dressed in dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt, probably Blaise's doing.

I didn't hear him leave the manor morning, still wiped out from the night before.

He certainly _did_ come through with his promise to take off my dress with his teeth and for the first time since that botched attempt, we had sex. Great sex. I get hot under the collar just thinking about last night…not to mention, the sight before me.

My mouth waters…I need to thank Blaise the next time I see him.

Draco noticeably becomes more and more rigid, to the point where he's gripping the handle of the door with such a forceful grip I'm sure it's going to crumble in his hands any second now.

I reach for his hand that's gripping the hell out of the door, lightly grazing the tip of my nail against his knuckles.

He hisses like this little insignificant touch burns him, yet he's shivering like he's enduring the coldest blizzard in recorded history without as much as a jacket. I almost back down, unhinged by his reaction to me, but I'm only wearing Slytherin clothes, I am very much a courageous Gryffindor at heart.

Absently, I bite my lip when I look at him.

Draco releases this low, rumbling groan that seems to originate from his gut.

_Well, this is interesting._

The smirk on my face grows into a very evil grin.

"You're very quiet this evening, Draco," I speak, almost in a low purr.

He's as turned on as he is confused, "Why—"

I cut him off abrasively, "Everyone deserves to have a fantasy come true every once in a while."

And then I pounce.

My lips are on his in a frenzy I'm unfamiliar with, I pull back and search his cloudy eyes for a moment and then I crush my lips against his once more, devouring his mouth, gripping his shirt with my fists, tongue, lips, everything is put into this kiss. It's powerful; this tidal wave of lust, love, and emotion hits me hard, I feel myself stagger, just a bit lightheaded from it all.

He's kissing back, but still tense, probably confused and stunned, but soon he's kissing me with everything in him.

The vice grip on the doorknob is released.

Draco's hand rests on my bum and he squeezes it. My eyebrow rises and I tangle one leg with his…hand on bum…this is something new, but I ignore it and keep kissing him fiercely. And then his hand slowly moves down then up the back of my skirt and he's greeted with a pair of silk green knickers that matches the bra he'll be seeing up, close, and personal really soon.

He's right, you know, green does look better on me.

That hand rubs my bum while the other wraps around my waist, keeping me upright because my legs feel like I've been hit with a jelly-leg curse at this exact moment. Both my arms wrap around his neck. His breathing has changed, but so has mine. My lips move in this frenzy down to his neck and I kiss and suck this spot on his neck, right on his jugular that makes him growl…and that's when I feel it.

SLAP!

His hand connects with my bum and I bite down on his neck in surprise as my body reaches its boiling point. He groans loudly, a mix of pleasure and pain. That's definitely going to leave a mark. Draco Malfoy: the sensational bum slapper? This is too much for me to comprehend, not that I mind, it's just that he's never done that before.

I pull back and look at him, startled, "You slapped my bum…"

"Should I apologize?" is his husky reply.

"No," I smirk and astonish even myself when I say, "I-I think I k-kind of liked it."

"I'll note that," and his lips are on mine, greedily kissing me as the room begins to sway and spin.

Last night was all about taking our time, exploring, and passion. Tonight is all about pure, white, hot, lust and uninhibited sex. Tonight is all about fulfilling his fantasy.

He's ready to get down and dirty on the Moroccan rug; I'm thinking and not exactly feeling the idea of waking up with my body covered in rug burns. Not good memories associated with them. Determined to keep my focus on him and this, I push all those thoughts aside and let him devour my mouth with his lips and his tongue and occasionally, when he decides to nip my lower lip, his teeth too.

And as he does this, I blindly guide him back to the bedroom, trying not to trip on boxes and on each other.

Draco slips a little and I find myself giggling like a teenager.

The next minute is a long blur. A low growl, fifty feet, more clumsiness, a lot of kissing, and a kick to the door later and Draco lifts me up on the bed. I feel loose and wobbly, unsteady even. It's a nice, dreamy feeing that I really like. His lips, I observe, are swollen and puffy from kissing and he's more flushed now than he was when he walked in.

While he undresses, Draco stands between my legs, watching me intently. I, on the other hand, lean back on the bed on my hands and watch him. Then he's naked and I wait, expecting him to tackle me or something, but he doesn't. Instead, he takes off my shoes and speaks for the first time, in a predatory growl, of course, "You have no clue how turned on I am."

"Actually, I think I do," my heart threatens to race out my chest.

He looks doubtful, but says nothing more on the subject, "Lift up."

Obediently, I lift up off the bed just slightly and with a small tug the skirt is gone and tossed aside. Next to go is the jacket and not long after, all I'm left in is the green and silver Slytherin tie, the green lacy bra, and my socks.

I expect to feel his weight on me, but instead he spreads my legs and does something we've never done before, not until last night. His tongue is warm and delicate, licking me tentatively. Draco holds my legs wide, holds me open while he explores. He takes his time, licking everywhere, and my quaking body is in ruins it seems.

Next are the fingers.

With a push, he slides not one, but two long, slender fingers deep inside me and I groan. I'm slick and incredibly wet, or so he tells me I rest on the bed, body humming. I cover his hand to keep him inside of me, moaning appreciatively as my hips rock, riding his fingers. He licks his thumb on his other hand and uses it to rub my clit, still fingering me hard and deep.

Gasping from the first touch, I'm arching off the bed, "Draco," I moan. If he doesn't stop it's—he replaces his thumb with his tongue and everything goes hazy. It's close. I'm close. Oh. Shit. My thighs tense, body convulses, I'm wiggling, and—"Draco!" I cry out, entire body stiffens as I climax quickly; the pleasure nearly makes me cry.

In the middle of it, Draco climbs up on the bed, between my legs, and plunges into me.

I'm so stunned all I can do is ride the wave from the last one and hope it finishes before the next one hits. His movements are rough and eager; he tangles his hand in my hair, plants kisses all over my face as he thrusts into me wildly. We rock the mattress with our own movements.

Draco's lips curve into a faint smile as he thrusts, our eyes never breaking contact as he picks up the already fast and rough pace and I wrap my legs around him tight. Again and again, over and over, the sensations in me are building. I can barely stand it. Draco's moaning quite openly now, muttering under his breath, I still don't know what, and I'm certain I don't care.

This is intoxicating. He is intoxicating. This entire scenario is intoxicating. And it's bringing my orgasm closer and closer with every movement of his hips. I start moving with him and it makes him groan louder, his body is a mess of shivers and he's almost there. That just makes me hornier, if at all possible. Draco pauses and buries himself into me as deep as possible and holds it there for a moment, like he's trying to hold back.

His next breath comes out heavy and I touch his chest that's glistening with sweat, his heart is racing.

Draco toys with the tie a moment before looking straight into my eyes as he says rather lowly, "Ride me."

When he settles on the pillow, I crawl up the bottom of the bed like a cat, tie hanging. He's watching me, biting his lip just a little. I lean forward to kiss him just long enough to tease him, which I accomplish successfully. Draco growls when I pull away and I just smile.

"I didn't know Gryffindors were so evil."

Pulls at his bottom lip with my teeth, I smile evilly, "Check the tie, Draco…I'm all Slytherin tonight."

He moans when I position myself and slowly push down on him, moaning while he does, as he fills me completely. I think I sigh something like, "Oh, god," but I'm unsure. The new position changes the angle of everything for the better and by the time I'm fully settled on him, my body's going through that familiar hum.

I've never done this before so my first movements are cautious. Draco grips my hips and together, we start a nice rhythm. It feels better than expected and soon it's all pure sensation, flesh on flesh as pleasure builds for us both. I lean forward and he starts moaning in my ear, crying out as I ride him. His position makes his neck open to me and I accept with almost greedy lips and tongue, fingers gripping his shoulders as I plunge again and again, woozy and blindly horny from our movements.

Its back, the orgasm for the both of us is coming faster than I want, but it's good.

Draco starts meeting my thrusts, driving himself up into me and he's holding back and I'm holding on until I can't stand to for another minute, second, at all. And then I hear that moan of his, the distinctive one. It triggers my orgasm and I topple of the edge, crying out. It takes about two seconds for Draco to heave upward, his orgasm hitting him hard and he cries out my name as well as a few curse words.

This orgasm is so torturous I feel like I'm dying. It's too much, not enough, everything and nothing all at the same time. His body is hard beneath me, trembling. I'm sure if he had nails, my back would look like I'd been attacked by a werewolf by now.

Collapsing against him, I ride the undulation of this orgasm as he kisses me where his lips fall, making random paths of heat on my shaking body. He's shaking too, breathing just as hard as I am, and sweating just as bad, but this is good.

Soft touches and calming kisses do their job quickly and I relax against his warm body, smiling.

We lay here, bathing in afterglow for what feels like hours. Draco's hand is rubbing up and down my back with feather touches and he speaks words so soft. I should be dozing, but I'm not. Instead, I find myself wanting more. I want him until we're not capable of pleasure anymore. And so I decide to wake back up the relaxed dragon.

Pushing down on him slightly, I hear him hiss, still a bit sensitive and not totally hard anymore, "Again?"

"Again," I repeat and pull myself off of him and roll on the bed next to him, giving him an inviting look.

He groans from the surprise and the sudden coolness, quickly rolling on top of me. He strokes himself a few times and mumbles something and my legs straddle him, hugging him as he fills me completely again. Again and again, I want him with more desperation I haven't fully realized until he'd been inside of me earlier.

"You're insatiable tonight," he breathes as he glides inside me.

I just smile. Yes. I am. I just feel like I can go forever. He's thrusting faster and all I can do is hold on and moan with him. He's moving inside me, hitting the right spots, making my body spasm. My nails dig in his skin, moaning. I try to move up, but Draco holds me down like he's determined to do all the work now. Moving in and out, I groan, lost in sensation with each motion he makes.

Draco grits his teeth and slowly rests on me, nuzzling in my neck as his thrusts increase in speed. It's hypnotic.

"More," I groan, clenching to him so tight. I'm beyond understanding why this word is stuck on my tongue. He's giving me more, thrusting harder, his pace quickening. This relentless pleasure is here, making me weak, making my thighs ache and tense. It goes on and on, he's filling me to the hilt in short thrusts, following the unconscious movements of my own hips against his.

Its building once more, it's building in him too, his moans are getting outrageous and they're propelling me forward at a dangerous speed.

Five minutes later and I'm clinging to him after another earth-shattering orgasm…coming down, taking everything he has to offer. Draco's blanketing me, shivering, still moaning and trying to calm down. He comes with the same intensity that he shags me with, body rigid from head to toe, eyes half open and staring at me, grinding his hips into mine. And minutes later, as I lay here content, he's back to whispering in my ear, words that make me blush, telling me how fantastic I am and how this was better than the fantasy…hehe.

And just before he falls asleep, he rolls us over so I'm on top, pulls the comforter over us and kisses my tender and kind of swollen lips.

Now, he's sleeping.

Actually, he's been asleep a while and his arms are wrapped around me just right. It's warm, I'm happy, and my head is resting on his chest, listening to his heart thump in his chest. I understand why it's so calming for Lizzie.

And as I lay here, slowly drifting into a comfortable sleep, I know I won't move even if the world decides to end.


	17. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling does.

Author's note: Thanks for all the positive reviews. I'm glad you liked the scene. I figure they hadn't had one good smut scene since chapter 1, so yeah. Anyways, this chapter happened a lot faster than I thought or planned. Hermione's back at work and it's time for a good old fashion showdown. Read and let me know what you think. Until next time, happy reading and peace...

* * *

_I'm lucky I know, but I wanna go home  
I got to go home, let me go home  
I'm just too far from where you are  
I wanna come home_

"_Home"—Michael Buble_

_(Seven weeks later: September 28__th)_

It's been really hard going back to work.

Everything has changed so much in my life, for the better, yet the moment I apparate into St. Mungo's, I feel like I've gone back in time, back to Nott and the attack and Lizzie's birth and the horror of it all.

When I see Grant, all I see is him trying desperately to save me after Lizzie's birth and I see the blood that covered his robes afterwards…I know these are false memories, but they're horrific. I know he sees the same thing when he sees me because he's been avoiding me ever since. Yes, he came to the shower, but he left quickly after it started. I can't fault him for his actions, we aren't even close anyway. It was a scary time for us all.

After a month back, I decide it's time to go into the break room once, with Pansy, just to see if I can ever sit in there without seeing myself on the ground, curled up in a ball, desperately trying to protect my baby from a madman who seems content with using me as his own punching and kicking bag. I want to see if I can't hear Pansy's hysterical screaming, her pain, her fear, and my final request. I want to see if I can sit here and pretend it's just another room…

The answer is no.

You would've thought Voldemort and the entire regimen of death eaters were chasing me the way I ran from the room.

Like a bat out of hell, I ran and ran, straight down the hall, into the emergency area, through the swinging doors, ignoring the questions and the yelling of my name, and right out the front entrance. I ran down the street. I ran. I ran until my feet gave out. I ran because I didn't have that option the first time. I just ran.

And then, when I feel burning in my lungs, the tightness of my legs, the aching of my stomach, the soreness of my arms, my racing mind and heart, when everything overwhelms me, I stop and fall to my knees, and for the first time, I let myself cry about what happened.

I don't cry for me, no. I did what I could to protect Lizzie and if that includes getting hurt in the process, that's fine.

Instead, I cry for Pansy, who, even in war, has never seen such a gruesome act of violence committed on one person. I cry for Harry and Ron because we have had to grow up too early and it always seems like one of us is always getting hurt. I cry for Ginny, who thought that our last words to one another were going to be about napkin designs and their purpose.

I cry for Anne and my dad because they could've lost so much, so fast. Even if one of them isn't speaking to me, I cry anyway. I cry for Luna and Blaise, who had the hard job of keeping everyone calm. I cry for Draco because no one should ever be tortured the way he was, to have to make a decision between your baby and the woman you love, it's awful.

And then I cry for Lizzie because it isn't fair that she had to make an early appearance into the world because him. It isn't fair that there has been so much hate directed towards her, not just by Nott, but by her own grandfather as well. She didn't do anything to deserve it, she's just a baby. It isn't fair that she has experienced such an atrocious amount of violence so soon in life, even though she'll never remember it, it doesn't change the fact that it happened. It's not fair she had to come in the world with so much broken, so many bruises…and I cry for Lizzie's innocence more than anything else.

I don't know how long I cry until I feel arms wrap around me. Pansy is out of breath from chasing me, but she finds enough of her voice to whisper, "Let it out."

And I do.

She drags me into an alley and apparates me back home where we sit in the floor and I just cry.

You see, I didn't have to think about any of that while at home.

Home has become, in the six months of my leave, a safe haven of some sorts. It's protected me, in its own way, from the horrors of the world. At home, I'm not being plagued by thoughts, assaulted by memories…at home I can forget and granted that forgetting isn't the best cathartic measure, it works.

At home I'm distracted by everything that is Lizzie, by Draco, by books, other activities, family, and friends. I can't possibly think about the pain and terror and helplessness I felt that day when there's so much love surrounding me, when we're all (well, except Draco) laughing at something Ron has said or done.

But home isn't protecting me now like it used to. Now, I'm back to the real world.

I used to walk the halls confidently, now I look over my shoulder. I used to nap in that break room, now it doesn't exist to me anymore. I used to like it when people ask about me, now I absolutely dread it.

People…

People have been relentless since my return. As much as I've tried to, they never let me forget about Nott. As much as I've told, they always have more questions. As detailed as I've been with my account of that day, they want to know grizzly details.

Can't they see I just want to move on with my life?

After another long day that's been better than days before, I sigh and stare at the table, happy to be out of that place. I put in my request to switch departments today and it will no doubt get approved. I think it's time to move on from healing those who have had magical accidents...

Snapping from my thoughts, I check my watch and look up to see my three best friends walking into the restaurant together.

I don't know where I'd be without them and to be honest, I don't ever want to find out. They keep me sane and grounded, laughing and playing, and I love them like they were my own sisters.

When they sit down, Ginny launches into part four of her "I'm a happy newlywed" sermon and while Pansy rolls her eyes with a chuckle, Luna just smiles.

"Seriously, guys…being married is amazing. I—"

"We know, we know," Pansy interrupts with a drawl and recites what Ginny has told us in parts one, two, and three of her sermon, "You would never give this up for anything, Harry is a great husband, and each night you go to sleep with a smile on your face…although I can tell you why and I know it has something to do with getting the hell shag—"

"Pans!" I whisper harshly, nudging her in the arm. Brash Pansy just fires me an innocent look.

Luna laughs and Ginny just smiles, blushing a bit.

"So," I proceed, "Does anyone have any new news?"

"Andrew and I broke up," Luna says with a serene shrug, "Its okay. He doesn't believe in nargles. How can I date someone who laughs at the idea of nargles? Anyway," she proceeds, "I'm going to have lunch with Neville tomorrow."

I just stare at her in amazement. Luna moves on really fast. I mean, I don't believe in nargles either, but I understand her reasoning behind the breakup. You can't date someone who laughs at something you hold dear to you.

"Wow, Luna. Are you okay?" Ginny asks, concerned.

"You know we're here for you, right?" Pansy flashes an assuring smile.

Luna smiles this peaceful smile, "Yes and yes. It's wonderful to have such good friends like you all, I really feel like I belong somewhere," she says in a way that reminds me of a younger Luna, "And besides, Neville is nice, always has been. I don't know why I didn't consider him sooner…what are you guys getting? I think I want some pudding for dessert."

And that's the end of the discussion, none of us press it.

Instead, we all rattle off what we're going to get: chicken for Ginny, a salad for Pansy, and a club sandwich for me.

While Luna orders, I watch her. I've known her for a long time, we've fought death eaters together a few times, and I realize today, I've never seen Luna so much as raise her voice at anyone, in fact, when Pansy and Ginny occasionally get into it, she's the one who calms them down.

One time, her tab was wrong and the waitress manager refused to change it and she remained calm. I probably would've shut down the restaurant…with my wand. Hell, I _know_ Ginny and Pansy would've, for sure, but Luna just argued her case and the matter resolved itself. Sure, she may believe in crazy creatures, but I respect her for her ability to imagine things and I respect her for standing up for what she believes in.

"Ginny," Pansy looks at her once the waitress walks away with our orders, "you might want to close your ears."

"Why?"

"Unless you want to hear about your brother's sex life—"

She shudders like she's seen her boggart, "My brother has a sex life?"

"Now he does."

"Oh, that's gross! I'm going to the loo to obliviate myself." And she gets up and walks off, shaking her head.

When she's gone, Luna raises her brow at Pansy, "You shagged Ron?"

She nods proudly, "Last night…he was a bundle of nerves and he kept staring at me like I wasn't real, like this wasn't really happening or something…is that normal?"

"Yeah," I smirk and reply without even thinking, "Draco still does t—"

Pansy shoots me a sly look, "I bet he does…especially since you like to play dress up."

I glare, but it turns into a smirk.

She wasn't supposed to know about that, but she dropped Lizzie off that Monday morning earlier than we expected and I had only enough time to jump into a robe. A sliver of the tie was sticking out the robe and of course, she saw it…and then saw Draco's pleased face when he came downstairs (with noticeable marks on his neck and his arms), and told me to keep the jumper…in case we feel the need to play dress up again.

And then she proceeded to tell Ginny and Luna about it.

I could've hit her, but it's pretty funny...and besides, now that she can no longer talk to Ginny about her sex life with Ron, she's going to ask me for advice and suggestions...I think we all know where I'm going with this. Insert evil laugh right here.

"This isn't about me," I smirk, "It's about you and Ron…so did you like it?"

"He was okay, a bit different from what I'm used to because he's kind of inexperienced, but he's attentive and I'm a good teacher…you don't think he was a virgin, do you?"

"No, he wasn't." I quickly mention that we had sex twice while we dated and he had a one night stand with Lavender right after we broke up.

She takes the news with a shrug, "Well, it makes sense. He's had sex three, well, four times in his life, no wonder he was nervous."

Luna and I giggle and Ginny reappears, which promptly ends all conversation about her and Ron's sex life.

Pansy asks, quite brashly once we're served dinner, "Hermione…when are you going to see your dad?"

I sigh and chew on a bit of my club sandwich, "Dad's birthday is Friday and she's invited us to dinner…"

"So Friday it is…" Luna says ominously.

Yes, Friday it is…I sigh to myself.

Oh, please believe I've considered not going to dinner Friday, but after all Anne's done for me and Lizzie, there's no way I can _not_ show up. And he still is my dad, even if he's the world's biggest git alive. Besides, I've come to the decision that it's high time that I see him, talk to him, and let Draco and Lizzie meet him.

Time to be brave because it's not going to be a pretty reunion.

"How's Lizzie? I feel like I haven't seen her in _ages_." Pansy asks, taking a sip of her drink.

"She's great, Draco's kind of bitter because she keeps saying "ma" over and over. He just knew she'd say "da" first. Next week she'll be eight months old. I was thinking about having everyone over Saturday for dinner to celebrate."

"That sounds good," Luna smiles.

"How's Draco taking the retirement?"

"Oh, it's going well…he keeps busy. I think he likes not having to go in to an office everyday."

I almost wanted to say, _"What retirement?"_ because Draco works more now that he's retired than ever before, but he does it on his own time. I think that's the real reason he retired, so he doesn't have to work on a set schedule. He still attends to every single one of Lizzie's needs, and when she's either napping or when Mrs. Weasley or Anne decide they want to spend time with her, that's when he gets work done. He takes her to meetings with him and leaves her in the care of Ellis, who we both trust with her.

They're apparently working on this merger deal with a muggle lending company because Blaise is really interested in expanding the company to include muggles. It's a bold move on their part, to expand to muggles, but I think it's going to benefit in the long run.

At least once a week when I come home from my shift at St. Mungo's, I see Draco and Blaise and the new guy, Sam, working on figures and facts at the kitchen table. Lizzie is always in his arms or they're playing on the floor, because he doesn't work while she's awake. Blaise and Sam usually work in silence while Draco takes care of his daughter.

When I come in, I take over parenting because Lizzie gets really excited to see me and he goes to work in the kitchen. I usually, play and feed Lizzie, bathe her and sing songs with her; I read her a story and put her to bed. Most of the time, Draco, who is horrific in the kitchen, orders sometime to eat, but sometimes I cook because it looks like they're going to be a while.

Sometimes, I sit with them and listen. Blaise always asks my advice about things, being a muggle-born and all and I always add my two cents, just to help. I give them a few new ideas on how to draw in muggles to the company, the right interest rates for loans, and things they can do to improve what they already have.

In addition to that, he's started to donate money to charities and attend their galas on the weekends, part for business and part for pleasure. Sometimes I go with him and we leave Lizzie in the care of one of her godparents, sometimes we take Lizzie too and he proudly shows her off, and sometimes Lizzie and I stay home. Those are the nights he doesn't stay long…

The rest of dinner goes by in a flash and the next thing I know, I'm walking into my house. It feels good to be home. I really miss them during the day and sometimes it takes everything I am to go out with my friends instead of rushing home, but Draco encourages it.

"Anyone home?" I call out, placing my bag on the floor next to the door and walk through the foyer.

It's plausible that no one is home; he's been spending the last couple of days with his aunt.

They didn't talk much before Lizzie was born due to his pride and her always being busy with Teddy, but now that he's a bit more mature, I think he's really trying to change their relationship. Family. Now that he has one of his own, family is starting to become more and more important to him.

"In the living room!" Draco calls back and I hear Lizzie laughing.

Lizzie is on the floor, in just a white shirt, rocking back and forth on her hands and knees, but not going anywhere, she's babbling animatedly about something and Draco is lying on the floor on his side, next to her, head propped up, listening and watching her, and sometimes speaking back.

I'm surprised he's not working tonight, but I don't say anything because the sight of the two of them is just adorable.

She squeals when she sees me and rocks harder like she's determined to get to me.

For a second, I look at my daughter with every ounce of motherly pride. In the past two months, Lizzie blonde hair has grown a little…and started to curl. It still looks a touch darker than Draco's…and I'm still pleased that she may look more like me after all.

She's grown significantly, and is about sixteen and a half pounds and has grown to twenty-six inches long.

Yes, she's still a bit small for her age, but she's developing rapidly.

I scoop her in my arms and drop what seem like millions of kisses on her face. I tell her that I missed her today and Lizzie giggles and laughs and, of course, she drools on me. Draco gets off the floor and kisses me until I feel unsteady on my feet. Sweet Merlin.

Minutes later, a determined and slightly frustrated-looking Lizzie is back on the floor rocking. Draco says she can go on like this for hours.

We're all on the floor now; I'm lying on Draco's chest, listening to him talk to her and watching her babble back. I just watch my family (feels good to say that) while his hand runs up and down my back.

I ask softly, "Has she gone anywhere yet?"

"No, but she looks bloody determined…how was your day?"

Smirks, "Not too bad. Just long…where's Blaise and Sam?"

"In New York for the start of the merger meetings. So far, so good."

"That's great…what did you do today?"

"I had a meeting this morning, we did a little shopping in Diagon Alley, and we went by my aunt's early this afternoon for brunch. It's official. Teddy doesn't like Lizzie and I don't think she's fond of him either."

Chuckles and keeps my eyes on Lizzie who's suddenly stopped rocking and lifts her left knee, "What happened?" I ask, keeping my eyes on her rather curiously.

Draco isn't watching, "I think they were playing and Lizzie picked up a toy Teddy wanted and he snatched it from her. She started screaming and my aunt made him give it back to her, but then he gets mad and starts crying, saying that he hates her and that she gets everything she wants. Typical four-year-old tantrum. Lizzie—" he's cut off by my sharp gasp.

Lizzie has just started crawling.

* * *

_Somewhere weakness is our strength, and I'll die searching for it  
I can't let myself regret, such selfishness  
My pain and all the trouble caused, no matter how long  
I believe that there's hope,  
Buried beneath it all, and…  
Hiding beneath it all, and…  
Growing beneath it all…_

"_Let The Flames Begin"—Paramore_

_(Four days later: October 1__st)_

"…And now, the weather. It's going to be a beautiful autumn day here in London with a high of 15 degrees Celsius. There is, however a chance of rain late in the afternoon, and a thunderstorm brewing in the west, just off the coast. It should not affect us until later on tonight so enjoy this beautiful, autumn day with your families…"

I just snort and flip the radio off.

Enjoy the day with my family? I think not.

I look out the passenger window, there's not a cloud in the sky. Not one speck of white in the clear, blue sky. The sun is out and if it weren't for the wind, it would be a hot autumn day. Rain? Rain doesn't look possible today.

Draco heaves a sigh.

Lizzie is in the backseat babbling and shrieking away, thoroughly entertained by her hands and her bib that says _"I love my grandma"_ that she's trying to remove. She is the happiest person in the car…and she makes the most noise too. I don't know what she's talking about or who she's talking too, but all is right in her baby world and for that alone I'm happy.

It's been terribly quiet this morning and I'm thrilled Lizzie, who is eerily observant, hasn't picked up on it yet.

We eat in silence, clean in silence, shower in silence, bathe Lizzie in silence, and Draco, out of nervousness, spends a lot of time this morning making sure everything on tables, nightstands, and dressers are perfect and in place. We dress in silence, me in jeans and a red long-sleeved shirt and Draco in dark jeans, white shirt, and a black blazer.

Lizzie is a cutie in a baby blue dress and matching longalls that kind of remind me of leggings, and she's wearing some matching shoes. Her soft curly hair has been brushed and she's wearing the matching headband, still to her dismay. It's only her fascination with her bib, hands, and pacifier that keeps her from ripping it off her head and flinging it away. She's done it too many times to count this morning.

Draco rests his hand on my thigh and squeezes a bit for comfort.

I suspect Draco is only silent because I am and I'm only silent because I've been on pins and needles about today.

Maybe I just need to relax.

So I rest my hand on his and exhale, looking over at the man who has his eyes fixed on the road, "No matter what happens today…we're okay, right?" I ask meekly.

His eyes dart to me for a moment, "Of course," and flips his hand over, entwining our fingers, "I think everything's going to be fine."

I wish I could believe him. I honestly do…but it's funny.

It really is.

It's funny how my dad, the man I've made sacrifices for, the man I will do any and everything in my power to please, its funny how he can turn it all around and make my life hell. Nothing but this miserable hell. How he can treat me the way he does and continue to sleep peacefully at night, I can't understand, I never have understood, and I don't think I ever will.

Being put down, belittled, ignored, and chastised by someone before who claims to be your father is heartbreaking…

…but the fact that he doesn't have faith in me is worse.

I am Hermione Granger, we all know this, but my dad doesn't have a flipping clue who I am; he doesn't know me as a witch, as a loyal friend, as a logical person, or even as a mum.

He sees me as the same eleven-year-old standing in the kitchen, bags packed, and ready to go to live in a strange new world and he tries to keep me that way. Innocent. Pure. And unscathed from the world around me.

Dad has never taken the time to get to know the real me, and I'm labeled only by what he thinks he knows…when he doesn't know a damn thing at all.

If only he would take the time to dig deeper, look inside, talk to me, think of me, and get to know the real me: the girl who is clever and witty, the girl who gets spells easily, the girl who's had to mature before I was really ready, and now the woman who is a mother and soon to be a wife.

Underneath these clothes and flesh, I am person, a woman, a witch, a friend, a counterpart, a fighter, a mum, a fiancée, a daughter, and I have feelings and a heart that have been hurt by him and his figurative lifelong rejection of me and now of his literal rejection.

And the sad thing is that even now, even after everything that's happened between us, all I want is his love and acceptance. From him. That's all I ever wanted. To feel like his daughter. For him to treat me like his daughter.

But he's never taken the time to notice me, to look beyond what he wants to, to try and understand where I'm coming from.

He hasn't tried to care—

"We're here."

I suck in a deep breath when he puts the car in park, "Its showtime."

"Anything I should know before we go in?"

"Yeah…my dad likes to bait people into arguments, don't let him…oh, and don't eat the salad and the…well, just don't eat too much of anything. Just drink a lot of water and fake it until you make it."

Draco pales slightly. He's never had any of Anne's cooking before…he's up for a big surprise.

I open my car door and I'm about to get out when he says, "Leave your wand."

That's probably a good idea.

Anne greets us with a smile. She hugs Draco first, then me, and kisses Lizzie on the forehead. She looks happy that we're here and talks about her plans for dinner, to which Draco gives me a wary look, but says nothing else.

After babbling for an hour straight, Lizzie is quietly looking around, taking in this new environment and looks to be processing every detail about it in her head. Draco appears to be doing the same thing. I wonder how many times he's been in a muggle's home…besides mine. I'm thinking it's a very low number.

Lizzie looks curious…and I find myself wondering for a second if Lizzie can process such complex things and then I decide not to worry about it.

The house smells like garlic bread and cleaning products, of course. It's a very strange smell; not very unpleasant, just weird…the house looks weird. The living room looks completely different…hell, everything looks different, now that I think about it.

"Did you paint?" I ask Anne, adjusting Lizzie in one arm and the gift in the other for a second before handing her over to Draco.

She nods and starts to explain about using softer colors for better vibes, which isn't exactly new to me. She did, after all, help pick out a few colors in the house…and is the reason the office downstairs is a wonderful shade of green.

Anne decides to give Draco a tour of the house and tells me my father is in the living room with this look that instructs me to go try to work it out.

I snort to myself. Work it out? _Please_.

Voldemort asking Harry over for tea and biscuits is more likely to happen.

But slowly, I listen…and most of all, I try to stay positive.

It's not hard, well the walking part…not the being positive part.

One foot forward, then the next…and the next thing I know, I'm standing in the living room, eyes resting on my dad for the first time in over a year. He hasn't changed much, if at all.

He's watching special about the havoc gum reeks on teeth…and of course, he's smacking on a piece of gum and nodding along with the dentists on television with small grunts of approval.

Yes, he still thinks he can do no wrong.

This is going to be hard.

I clear my throat, bringing attention to myself.

Dad's eyes meet mine and his brow rises slowly. If he's surprised and happy to see me, I can't tell.

I don't feel comfortable under his scrutiny and I find myself staring at the box in my hand.

"Why are you here?" it comes out in a deliberate sneer.

My head jerks up and the disdain in his voice and the glare in his eyes make me positively wish I were in a place far away from him. Chile, maybe…preferably southern Chile. Like the very tip. I'm talking one foot into the Strait of Magellan.

I take a breath before speaking, "It's your birthday…"

He yawns disinterestedly, "So…you missed it last year."

"But I'm here this year." I point out.

Coldly, he asks, "Why?"

"To be honest, Anne asked me to come…and I wanted to see you."

Stubbornly, he folds his arms, "Well, I don't want you here."

I feel like this rage inside of me is on a slow cooker and someone hit the start button. My shoulders tense and I toss the box at him with ease because deep down I want to throw it at his head, "It's a hygienic toothbrush holder," I tell him flatly, "I'm sure the last one needed to be replaced."

He catches it with ease and tosses it absently on the table, "Well, aren't you just the most _caring_ and _attentive_ daughter," he deadpans and somehow manages to make it come out with a sneer. Six years ago, Draco Malfoy would've appreciated the amount of talent that must've taken.

"That I am," I retort, keeping my voice even, despite the rising anger in my chest, "Happy birthday."

Dad just snorts and looks at the television.

I don't say another word, but there is this pressure on my chest and it's intense, so intense I can barely breathe…

…but he can go right on ahead, sneer at me, be angry about the way I choose to live my life, belittle my views and the way I judge things. He can go ahead and do what he wants and act like a grouchy child all he wants. He can accuse me for our faulty relationship, he can accuse me of making things between us strained, but the sooner he realizes isn't just _my_ fault, the better. The sooner he realizes I'm trying to fix it, the better he'll be.

Standing firm in the entrance of the living room, I fold my arms, "I'm not here to fight you, dad. That's not my purpose in coming here. I don't want to fight. I just want to talk."

With a press of a red button, the television gets turned off and harsh brown eyes are on me in a flash, "Well, at least you've made that clear, Hermione, but what you don't understand is that I don't give a damn."

"That's harsh, dad."

He says nothing and we sit in silence until the program is over.

Dad glances in my direction, "Why are you still standing there?"

"I want to talk."

"And I told you I don't, so bugger off."

"I'm not leaving," I say with unwavering determination in my voice.

"Just go, just go and see Anne. I have nothing to say to you. Just go, do whatever you need to do and—" he's cut off when Anne enters the room, holding a gurgling Lizzie.

I watch the anger on his face dissipate and I pick right now to take Lizzie off Anne's hands and approach my dad.

She goes to tend to the meal, purposely leaving us alone.

Immediately, dad starts to bait, "So, you decided to bring the spawn."

The gurgling stops abruptly; it's like Lizzie knows what he's saying is offensive and mean.

And I refuse to let myself lash out, "Her name is Elizabeth Dracen Malfoy…Elizabeth…in honor of mum."

Dad remains silent for a while as his skin pales at just the mention of my mum's name.

He just stares at Lizzie, who in turn, stares back, blinking ever so often. After a minute, dad gets up and observes her closely, taking in her blonde hair, grey eyes, the way she clings to my shirt, and how she stares at him with this look of…dare I say it…_defiance_.

I wonder what she's thinking about right now…

She gurgles softly, but it isn't a playful gurgle.

My brow rises.

After another moment of silence, dad explodes, "How _dare_ you, Hermione! How dare you name your filthy _spawn_ after your mother and you didn't even have the decency to make her a Granger! Why don't I just take you out to her grave and let you spit on her grave while you're at it," he sneers, narrowing his eyes on me.

This isn't going so well, "Dad—"

"No! You run off and have a baby and come back after over a year thinking that everything is going to be peaches and cream. Well you're wrong. This child," he stares pointedly at Lizzie, "is a _bastard_. You gave a _bastard_ your mother's name and call it honoring her," he snorts and glares hard at me, "That's not honor at _all_…how dare you!"

I feel like he's just hauled off and slapped me across the face.

I'm not only stunned, but taken aback by the hatred and animosity in his voice, the look of hatred he's looking at my daughter with and it breaks my heart that once again Lizzie is hated by someone for merely existing.

She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve any of this.

Lizzie becomes restless because of his raised voice, but I hold her close, tears welling in my eyes at the injustice done to such a beautiful little innocent baby girl.

"No, dad," I speak, voice broken, anger swelling. I'm shaking, trying not to explode in rage and scare Lizzie with my screams, "How dare_ you_. I came here to be the bigger person and talk to you, try to make up with you, and help us be a family again…and to let you meet your granddaughter—"

My dad snorts, "She's _no_ granddaughter of mine because you are no daughter of mine."

And that statement, right there, just makes my heart crumble into a heap of ash.

Tears fall freely and I stumble back a few steps away from him, wounded like an animal shot and left for dead in the forest.

I don't know where Anne comes from, but she takes Lizzie, who immediately starts protesting. I don't know where she takes Lizzie, but I hope it's far.

"Is this—" the tears are free falling, "Is this how you treat the child mum died to have? Is this how you treat her sacrifice?"

He says nothing.

"I guess so," I shake my head ruefully and my eyes fire to his, "You are the most _despicable_ man on the face of the earth and I would rather throw myself off a mountain than admit that your blood flows through my veins. I'd rather _die_ than to admit that we share the same genetic material," I wipe my eyes and speak my next words with such fervor and such coldness I swear I can feel the arctic chill, "I _hate_ you."

His eyes lock with mine, brown on brown, and I haven't meant these words in a long time, not like I mean them now.

"After everything I've done for you, that's what you—"

"What you've _done_?" I rant almost hysterically, tears raining down my face, "You haven't done _shit_ for me! I'm not even your daughter, according to you…which is fitting because you've never, _ever_ treated me like a daughter!"

"H—"

"—you_ ignore_ me, you put me down, I can't even talk to you about anything because I know you don't care, you try to make me believe I can't do the simplest things, and yes you praise me for being a shining example at school, but it's only because _"Grangers are supposed to be perfect,"_ according to you, that is! So don't you _dare_ sit here and try to make me feel guilty about what you've_ supposedly_ done for me!"

"I gave you life, for starters."

"Well congratulations, dad, on a job well done, but according to you, you don't even have a daughter…and you know what? That's a shitty thing to throw in my face! I think I know about as well as anyone that the task of giving life isn't a hard one! An idiot can _"give life"_ to a baby!"

Bitterly, "Yes, you are the shining example of that…what a waste of space you are."

On this note, I, obviously, snap.

I snap…so hard it hurts my entire body…I snap.

The anger that's been slow cooking is done and it's ready to destroy this room.

And before I can even attempt to control it, my hand pulls back and there's this tremendous, _"SMACK!"_ that reverberates off the walls, through the room, and probably through the house. And when the dust settles, my dad is staring at me in complete shock, holding his cheek right where I slapped him and I'm breathing so hard, so deeply, body shaking from repressed anger. Every breath hurts…and I raise my hand again.

He voice, I swear, it makes the room vibrate as he goes ballistic, "What the _hell_—"

"I hate you!"

My anger is not quenched and I'm really about to give him an introduction of who the hell I am.

However, before I can lash out again and throttle this man who claims to be my father, I'm being pulled back into a protective embrace, an embrace I'm so familiar with.

And right there, I break down.

Everything becomes a blur.

I'm lost in hysterics, wounded and anguished, and not to mention, heartbroken.

I can't even stop the tears, I just sob and fight Draco's arms off of me and still he holds me so firm.

I didn't even see him come in, I didn't even hear him, but he's here, comforting me with soft words I'm too infuriated to hear. I don't know how, but I end up on my knees, but Draco doesn't let go, he just comes to the floor with me. I pull against him, I claw at his arms, I scream, curse, and attempt to reach for Draco's wand to hex everyone in the room.

I beg Draco to let me go, but he doesn't. I plead with him, but he holds me firm. I cry out for him to let me go, but he holds me tighter.

He doesn't move an inch until I go lax in his arms…

…until we're both taking our breaths in shaky gasps…

…until I'm placated and numb and gripping to him as if he is the only source of sanity I have.

And he is.

"W-who are you?" Dad's voice is uncertain and he sounds frightened.

Draco's voice is so cold a shiver passes through me, "Not that it's any of _your_ business, but I'm Draco Malfoy. I'm Lizzie's father and Hermione's fiancé and if you say one more fucking word to her, I'll be your murderer. Don't think I'm bluffing either," his hand feels like ice on my burning forehead and I welcome the coolness, but I am completely devoid of feelings right now.

"…getting married?" his voice is so soft, almost like a whisper.

"Yes, we're getting _married_…" Draco spits snootily, "Not like _you're_ going to be invited to the nuptials. Y—"

"Don't waste your breath on him," I speak dully, "He's not worth it. He's not worth your breath, he's not worthy of knowing Lizzie, and he's not worthy enough to be called my father. Let's just go."

"B—"

I clench my fist, "_Please_, Draco…just go get Lizzie. I tried, I'm tired, I've been insulted in every way possible, and I'm finished here. I can't stay here a minute longer. Let's go home."

He huffs, but drops a lingering kiss on my forehead before his arms free me. He pulls us both off the floor and goes to fetch Lizzie, leaving me alone with my dad, who's gone suddenly pale.

I speak to him, for what may be the last time, "I hope that I haunt you. I hope that you can't sleep without my face in your mind. I hope I give you nightmares. I want you to be walking down the street, smiling, and see something that reminds you of me and I want you to be sad that you'll never see me again…"

His eyes widen.

"…I want you remember the time I got lost in the library as a child and you found me sleeping on a mound of books and I want that memory of me to make you cry for what you've lost. I want you to think of my wedding day and be heartbroken because you didn't get a chance to walk me down the aisle or see me exchange vows or see my first dance…"

His jaw locks.

"…I want you to see Lizzie's face in everything you do and I want you to regret the day you pushed her away. I want you to think of what she'll look like on her first birthday, on her fifth, her thirteenth, I want you to think of what she'll look like on her first day of school, her first day at Hogwarts, her graduation, her marriage, her first child…I want you to think of all that you're going to miss and I want it to eat at you until you're nothing but a pile of bones…"

He folds his arms.

"…I want you to think of the faces of our future children and I want you to weep because you'll never know them. And I want you to know that I will be immensely happy and you'll have nothing, _nothing_ to do with it…and I hope that it tears at your soul. I hope you regret this day until the day you die."

He fixes his lips to speak, but I don't let him.

I square my shoulders and dry my tears, "You're the worst example of a father I've ever seen and that's saying a lot," I chuckle bitterly.

"Well—"

I stare him down, "All I ever wanted was for you to love me and accept my decisions. I'm not perfect, I don't profess to be and I don't aim for it. All I asked was for your unconditional support and your love and now I realize I don't need it. I already _have_ unconditional support and love. I have that and so much more in my fiancé, my amazing daughter, my friends, and Anne. I don't need you. _We_ don't need you. I'd rather spend the rest of my life estranged from you than to spend one more second in your presence. You _disgust_ me."

Draco appears back in the living room, holding a quiet and docile Lizzie, "Hermione," he holds out his hand.

I give one last fleeting look to my dad, "Have a nice life, I know I will," and I walk to Draco and take Lizzie in my arms, hugging her close.

He may not care for her, he may think she's a bastard and a spawn, but she is the best part of my world. She is the reason I live and breathe. Lizzie is my heart, my mind, my body and my soul. She is mine, no, she is _ours_.

I slip my hand into Draco's and kiss his cheek softly; his hand squeezes mine for comfort.

Anne throws her arms around me, crying and I only drop his hand to hug her. She's whispering _"don't go"_ and I shake my head. I have to. And she knows it. Anne loves my dad, she truly loves him, and she's loyal to him, but I can't sit here out of my loyalty to her and let him treat us this way.

She nods, like she knows why we have to go, and kisses Lizzie's head, letting a few tears fall on her. She hugs Draco last, whispering for him to take care of us and that she'll see us soon. He nods and takes my hand again.

There are all these things running through my mind as we walk out the door, but the main thought running through my head is the fact that letting go is so hard, especially if there you are letting go of the man who raised you from infancy.

I want to say that he hasn't always been this cruel, but I can't.

I want to say that I understand him and his reasons for being so harsh, but I don't.

I want to say that I'll miss him and think of him, but I must not tell lies.

* * *

_I must look like I'm running away; to you at your faster pace  
I wonder what it is you could have seen, in me.  
I'm the evil one who said.  
Gonna let everything just happen  
Just like my chest, my ears are proud,  
The collision is such an ugly sound._

"_Let It Happen"—Jimmy Eat World_

_(Later on that night)_

Forecasters say it's the most rain they've seen this season and it's all so fitting.

The rain is washing the world clean and I've washed my world clean too.

I rest my hand gently on my sleeping baby's head. She's sleeping peacefully on the pillow between both of us, pacifier in mouth. I look over at Draco, who's lying on his side next to me, watching us both with a small smile on his face. We were going to go to dinner with everyone, but I'd much rather spend the night together, just with the three of us, listening to the rain fall outside.

He tries to talk about today, but I don't let him.

Some things are better left alone.

Lizzie's little hand swats at something in her sleep and I smile.

"You do that too, you know," he says rather softly.

"What?"

"You move your hands in your sleep…one time you popped me in the face, but I just figured you were dreaming about third year—"

"—or that day in the coffee shop—"

"—or the first time we had a meeting in the boardroom right after we had sex in it the day before—"

"—or that time you laughed when Ron told me I wasn't eating for two, but for two hundred—"

"Sweet Merlin, you're violent," Draco chuckles, "I don't know how I put up with it."

I snort, "I ask myself the same thing, except I wonder how I put up with _you_."

Draco rolls his eyes and pastes a self-important look on his arrogant face, "You're the luckiest woman in the world to have me as a fiancé…and in two weeks, you'll be the luckiest woman in the world when I marry you."

My eyes widen and my heart starts to race. He—what—we haven't even set a date! What…the…bloody hell is going on here?

I wait for him to say _'just kidding'_, but he doesn't, so I find my voice, "W-w-what are you t-t-talking about? W-we haven't even made plans," and I start to silently panic over all the things we haven't done, "we haven't found a cake, no invitations, I haven't even planned out the reception, we don't have wedding colors, a decorator, I—"

"Do we honestly need all that?" He interrupts, placing his hand on my hip.

Stunned, I just look at him. I always thought he wanted the big wedding with all the fine things, the wedding of a Malfoy is a big event in the wizarding world. People went nuts when we announced it. But as for me, I've always wanted a small, modest wedding with my closest friends and family, "Well…no…not really."

"Well—"

"I haven't even told you about my _'obey'_ clause in our vows and how I _refuse_ to promise to obey."

He chuckles, "Like I can ever get you to obey…"

Smugly, "No, you can't."

Draco absently pats down Lizzie's curly hair, "So we agree…two weeks?"

I thought he'd forgotten, "Draco…two weeks isn't enough time to plan even the most modest wedding. We don't have a plan," I'm sure he can hear the panic in my voice.

He's so calm, "Since when have we ever had a plan?"

In a bit of a quiet shrill, "But we _need_ one this time."

Still, he remains calm, "Do you trust me?"

A sigh comes first, followed by an honest, "Yes."

Draco smirks, "Then let's do this."


	18. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. does.

Author's Note: Thanks for all the fantastic reviews. Hermione's dad is an ass and it took like three revisions for me to come up with her little speech and when I re-read it, I knew it was moving because when I re-read it right before I posted it, my heart ached for Hermione and that's exactly what I was going for. So yay. Tennisplayerx33, that was the funniest review ever. I was literally in tears after reading it. I had no idea that last line sounded like that until I read the review. Haha! GiggleGinny, thanks for liking my music, it's a integral part of my writing process. When I'm writing a part, I swear I put the song it goes with on repeat. Brings out lots of emotions, which go well with the chapter that I'm working on. Oh, yeah, I got a review asking me if I ever considered writing scripts...never have before. I wrote one monologue in high school personifying myself as grass for an assignment for Drama class...seriously...but that's about it. Never thought I'd be any good at it.

I do have to warn you all that I'm terribly new at writing wedding scenes and to hide that I had Hermione wander through her friendship with Ginny during that wedding scene. So I decided not to be a punk and write a decent wedding scene just to stretch myself and see if I can do it. I hope you all like it. I'll probably go back and edit it if everyone hates it. I did work my butt off on it for the last week and I hope it's good and believable. Definitely going for the believable aspect. Anywho, I've run out of things to babble on about. Enjoy the chapter, don't forget to please review and let me know what you think. Peace!

Oh, yeah, there is one more chapter after this. I've wanted to write this chapter since I came up with Lizzie's character and I'm happy to say that I'm currently writing it. It's kind of like a flash forward to all of those who want a glimpse of future Lizzie.

* * *

_If tomorrow never comes, I would want just one thing  
I would tell it to the stars and the sun, I would write it for the world to see.  
And it's you…the light changes when you're in the room  
Oh it's you…oh, it's you…_

"_It's You"—Michelle Branch_

_(Thirteen days later: October 13__th)_

In 24-hours I won't be a Granger anymore and the thought, while scary and overwhelming, it's thrilling more than anything.

After debating heavily with myself and discussing my options with Anne and Ginny, I decided to take the Malfoy name, much to Draco's pleasure. I don't even know why it was such a hard decision, now that I think about it.

Granger is my past. Malfoy is my future and I'm not one for wasting my time looking back. Granger is the name of my father and I'm doing what I can to increase the distance between us, not because I'm bitter, no, but because I need it. I refuse to let him hurt me anymore…still, it's still hard letting go of the past, but Lizzie is a Malfoy and becoming a Malfoy will eradicate any future confusion…and besides, I do want to be a Malfoy…more than anything.

I can't say that I waited my entire life to become one, no…because that would be a lie.

I can't say I've loved him all my life because that's a lie too.

I can, however, say that I'm blessed to be where I am and I know it wouldn't be possible without amazing friends and him.

I used to say that Draco and I, when we're not fighting, we're silent…and sometimes I can still say that's true, but it's not an uncomfortable silence where he's picking at his clothes and straightening things and I'm confused, but it's a silence so full of peace and understanding and one that explains more to us than words can ever describe.

The grief and pain, the fighting and the yelling, happiness and joy, the ups and down…everything we've been through in the last year and a half, while it's distant in actual time, it's still fresh in our memories, but we both have grown up so much.

We've gone from hating each other as children, becoming curious about one another that night in the Astronomy tower, to indifference after the war, to nothing, to working together, to sleeping together, to unrequited love, back to nothing, then to something, moved on to like, then love, and here we are.

We're mature, we're parents, we're lovers, and he's one of my best friends. He is everything to me and I love him more and more each day.

And now we're about to exchange promises to love, honor, and cherish each other as long as we live in less than 24-hours. Merlin, I'm extremely happy with the way things have happened. I don't regret not one of my moves. Not one. That's what's keeping the smile on my face. That's why I'm not a jittery bride. Marrying him is another move I will never regret as long as I live.

"You're beaming again," Pansy breaks into my thoughts, a small smile splayed across her features.

"I'm happy," is my simple reply.

The small smile grows into a grin, "No one deserves it more than you…now, tell me, red or clear?" she holds up two bottles to let me choose.

I pick red and watch Ginny crawl after a laughing Lizzie.

"So the cake will be delivered tomorrow morning, all the flowers are already there, the reception tables are already set up, the entire room where the ceremony will take place is finished too…" Luna rattles on, staring down at the to-do list I wrote up the night we decided to get married.

"That's good," I smirk dreamily.

Luna gives me an odd, but slightly amazed look.

I think I've amazed everyone with just how calm I am tonight…

…_and_ how calm I've been throughout this entire planning process.

To be honest, I half-expect myself to morph into a crazy, batty, _"I'm getting married in two weeks and I'm a force to be reckoned with"_ psycho like Ginny did due to all the planning and hell I've been through these past thirteen days.

I half-expect that I would spend three hours vomiting. Break out in nervous hives. Cry and question everything and put on layers of socks because of my _cold feet_…she all did that too, but don't tell Harry. He thinks she was calm…ha!

What I don't expect is to find myself laughing at the thought now.

Laughing and calmly letting Pansy paint my feet this pleasing shade of red, while Luna continues to chatter on about last minute details and Ginny plays with Lizzie on the floor.

Should I explain why I'm so calm?

I probably should…

You see, last night, Draco and I had out own little ceremony in the living room, just the two of us, sitting on the floor in front of the fire, Lizzie sitting between us (okay, so maybe not _sitting_…she was adamant about crawling away, but that's not important).

We opted not to write our own vows for the ceremony, but instead wrote vows to each other, only to be spoken in private on every anniversary. Vows that will remain as a secret between us, vows that I've already promised to uphold until death parts us. If, by some minuscule chance, some accident happens and we don't get married tomorrow, I can live with what we promised and exchanged last night.

I've come to the conclusion that weddings are more for the families and friends involved than the actual bride and groom.

To be honest, if I had my way, we would've eloped last Wednesday and threw a party to appease everyone. As much as I like being a bride, I don't like being bothered with problems and issues 24-hours a day. Let's not even talk about the people who have been coming up to me, people I haven't seen in years and people who have never really liked me, begging me for invitations to the wedding. And then they want to get offended when I tell them that only sixty of our _closest_ friends and family are invited.

Now you can understand why, after all the planning and the stress and the total ridiculousness of it all that we've been through, I would've much rather spared myself the headache.

Well…I do have a penchant for being slightly dramatic at times…it wasn't _that_ bad.

Well, the people (strangers, is the better word for it) begging for invitations and sneering at me when I say no…that was pretty bad.

Seriously, it doesn't even take a week of planning to set the wedding in motion.

When you have Pansy's decorating and shopping skills, Ginny's eye for details and her ability to discreetly spread the word, Harry's connection in the ministry, Blaise's ability to force Draco to shop, Ron's babysitting skills, Luna's ability to keep me calm and on target when everything is crazy, Draco's charm and galleons, and my brains and organizational skills, anything is possible. With our powers combined, we've planned the wedding of my dreams. Classy and simple, all at the same time.

But tonight, I won't think about the planning process.

I won't think about the royal blue bridesmaid dresses that look absolutely stunning on them.

I won't think about the floral arrangements and wonder how in the hell they managed to score blue roses…without magic.

I won't think about the weather, not that it matters anyway, we're getting married inside one of the smaller ballrooms in the manor and the reception will be in the same ballroom as Ginny's.

And I won't think about my dress and how Anne was shocked that I opted out of wearing a tiara for the occasion, but rather a simple veil.

No, tonight I won't think of anything wedding related.

Tonight I will only think of my friends and how amazingly far we've all come. A year and a half ago we all were at totally different points in our lives. I was running away from Draco, Ginny and Harry were fighting and taking a break, Pansy wouldn't know what a serious relationship looked like it spit on her and punched her in the face. And Luna, well, Luna hasn't changed too much in the last year and a half. She's kind of kept everything together.

But now, now, Harry and Ginny are married. Pansy and Ron are in a serious relationship. Luna and Neville are getting closer as well. And as for me, I'm getting married to Draco and we have a wonderful daughter together. It's kind of like everything is coming together.

"I think she's out…how did she manage to fall asleep so fast?" Ginny wonders aloud about ten minutes later, amazed, and looking at Lizzie who is fast asleep on the floor.

"She's not really in her routine." I smirk at Lizzie when Ginny carefully picks her up and takes her to the nursery. She swats at something in her dreams and tenses up just a little before relaxing on Ginny, fisting her shirt. Adorable…just adorable.

It's become sort of a tradition now that the four of us spend the night before a wedding together.

Well, tonight it's the five of us, and we spent the earlier part of the evening sitting in my living room eating junk food (Lizzie is content with a grape juice bottle and gnawing on a couple of crackers that she takes great pleasure in crumbling into the carpet), watching wedding movies, chatting, doing each other's nails, and just spending time together. I confess I like these times best.

"And I'm back," Ginny announces once she returns from putting Lizzie down.

Right now, the movie is off, the food is still on the coffee table, and Pansy has just finished my nails and I'm observing them with a crooked smile, "Nice job, Pans."

"I'm an expert, it's what I do," she explains nonchalantly.

"Are you nervous?" Luna, who is done going over last minute details, asks as she stretches out on the couch. She reaches over and plucks a cookie from the plate and savors it for a moment before eating it.

"No, not at all," I smile confidently. After all, I know I'm doing the right thing. This is what I want more than anything.

"I wonder what the boys are doing…" Pansy trails off, pensively looking up at the ceiling.

Draco is spending the night with Blaise, Ron, and Harry in the manor. I never thought I'd live to see the day that Draco would ask Harry and Ron to be in his wedding party. I knew Blaise was going to be his best man, my two best friends? Groomsmen? Not a chance. Apparently I'm wrong about that too.

But I'm glad about that because it means a lot for Harry and Ron to be standing up there with me on my special day.

I think that's why he did it because lord knows, even though they don't fight openly, I'm positive that Harry and Ron aren't_ "buddy, buddy"_ with Draco. No way. Not by a long shot. I think they tolerate him because of his place in my life and because of Lizzie. I think he tolerates them because he understands that I come with a package deal named Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley and if he can't get along with them, then he can't have me.

Ginny smirks, "Knowing Blaise…they're probably out at a bar, drinking."

I snicker. Yeah, that's probably true, "Boys will be boys, after all."

"Well if they can drink, so can we!" Pansy exclaims, determined, "Ladies, I propose we have a toast." Pansy sits up, points her wand, and conjures a bottle of wine and four wine glasses.

"Can't," I decline, waving my hands, "Still breastfeeding."

Ginny shakes her head, "I can't—"

My brow rises. Ginny never turns down a drink…unless…"Ginny…are you—"

"Twelve weeks," she blushes fiercely, "just found out today. Right before I came over."

I grin, Pansy shrieks and clasps her hands together, and Luna scrambles off the sofa.

Together we all crush her in a group hug, excited for her and Harry. She tells us in the midst of the hug that she'd gotten sick the morning of her wedding and just thought it was nerves. It wasn't until she gained ten pounds and had backaches that she remembered how I felt right around the time I found out I was pregnant and decided to go to see a healer with Harry.

I'm surprised I didn't even notice the subtle changes in her, but Ginny looks exactly the same, besides extra trips to the loo when we're out and a little grumpiness that still fits in to her regular personality. She even still fits in her bridesmaid's dress.

When we pull away, she's grinning and glowing and flushed and I can't be happier.

Pansy: "Oh my—gosh! Another baby to call me auntie Pansy! I'm so excited!"

Luna: "This is wonderful!"

And of course, I have to say, "Another person who is going to feel my pain about morning sickness! Yes!"

Ginny snorts and we all sit down in the middle of the living room, "It's actually not that bad for me, I was only sick that one time…"

Frowns, "That sucks. I was sick for _three_ months…some people just have all the luck."

Pansy and Luna giggle.

Ginny just pats my leg, "I'm sure it won't be that bad the second time around."

I grumble and _Accio_ a cookie, "As much as I love Lizzie, I'm on all _kinds_ of potions and charms to make sure _that_ doesn't happen again, not for a _long_ time."

That just makes the three of them laugh harder.

Fifteen minutes later, they decide to shower me with the wedding gifts they want to give in private.

With a blush and a friendly glare, I receive a Slytherin green lingerie set from a grinning Pansy…as well as a few more shockingly revealing pieces in various colors. I happen to like the white one the best, to be honest.

"I'm thinking you should wear the maroon one tomorrow. You know that's his favorite color and it has the least amount of fabric," Pansy winks.

"Pans, it's practically invisible!"

She just smiles slyly, "That's the point, duh!"

With a smile and a few tears, I receive a scrapbook Luna made from the pictures I used to chronicle Lizzie's life. Her second gift is another scrapbook she made with pictures of Draco and I together, a bunch of the four of us, a couple with Draco and Blaise, a few with Harry, Ron, and I from school, and a slew with various combinations of all of us and Lizzie. I didn't even know Luna had taken all of these, and I'm touched immensely by her gift.

I trace my finger over one of me and Lizzie.

I'm whispering in her ear, probably telling her to smile because she's grinning in her toothless glory. And I notice Draco in the background, wearing a small smile on his face.

"Luna, this is one of the best gifts I've ever received, thank you so much."

She just smiles modestly.

And finally, with a gasp and more tears, I receive two tickets to Vienna, complete with accommodations from Ginny. She wants Lizzie to stay with them so they can practice attending to a baby's needs and because they adore Lizzie.

Two weeks in Vienna…with Draco. We didn't even plan on having a honeymoon; I took two weeks off after the wedding simply because I wanted us to be together. Now the vacation time comes at a perfect time. Sure, it'll be the longest we've both ever been away from Lizzie, but I think we need the time…and Lizzie will be in wonderful hands.

I think I'll surprise him right after the wedding, "He won't know what hit him."

Pansy and Ginny giggle at the idea and quickly we plan out the execution.

And then, once we're done conniving and I do a little research, we decide to play the "If" game.

"Okay, Luna, if you could choose to become an animagus, would you become a cockroach or a flea?" Pansy asks.

"A flea…you see, people live their lives so blind to the things around them that they would never realize they had a flea on them." Leave it to Luna to be intuitive and deep.

"Good answer."

Luna just smiles, "Hermione, if you could have unlimited access to the Restricted Section in the Hogwarts library, but had to snog Filch, would you?"

Oh, this isn't hard, "Well, I hope Mrs. Norris doesn't get jealous because I'd be fully prepared to snog the daylights out of him for _that_ library pass."

Ginny, Luna, and Pansy burst into fits of laughter.

* * *

_I heard the words coming out. I thought that I would die_

_It hurts so much to hurt you...then you look at me, __  
_

_You're not shouting anymore, you're silently broken  
_

_ I'd give anything now to kill those words for you_

"_Forgive Me"—Evanescence_

_(The next afternoon: October 14__th)_

Wedding jitters hit me full force as soon as I see myself in the full-length mirror in the left wing of the manor after Ginny hands me the bouquet of cream and blue roses.

The excited gasps and squeals from Luna, the tears and swoons from Ginny, and the claps and shrieks from Pansy all seem to fade into the background as I stare at myself.

There is nothing dazzling or extravagant about my dress, just a simple, ivory sleeveless satin gown with a sweeping train, but it's just stunning. It's tight at the top and flows out just a bit from the hips on down. My hair is pulled back into a neat and intricate (and_ tight_, thanks to Pansy's spell, grr…) bun with a few curly tendrils in my face. The veil is attached to my head under the bun and flows down to the middle of my back. Oh, and of course, I'm definitely wearing slippers to avoid any blunders on my part. The great thing is you can't even see that they're slippers. I like that best…that and the limited amount of makeup I'm wearing.

This is real.

Merlin.

And the beautifully decorated bouquet of roses make today definitely real.

I take a deep breath to stop myself from crying.

I'm getting married.

Holy…shit.

Turning to my matron of honor, I smile brightly, my eyes tearing up because she's close to crying, "Oh, Gin, I'll start crying if you do."

"I know," she dabs at her eyes, "I just can't stop, pregnancy hormones suck."

I think I know that more than anyone…Luna and Pansy giggle and I shoot a look at my two maids of honor, telling them to stop laughing, but I can't stop staring at them.

They look beautiful and elegant in their spaghetti-strapped knee-length royal blue dresses with ivory sashes across their waists, matching heels and jewelry, and their bouquets in their hands. To be honest, Blaise picked the wedding colors. The man has an eye for style, apparently. The color is flattering on Ginny and Luna's skin and brings out Pansy's eye color. All of them are adorning the same hair styles, loose spirals, except Pansy and Luna's hair are held out of their faces with a beautiful headband that matches their jewelry and a matching comb is stuck behind Ginny's left ear.

"I think it's time for a few more pictures…" Luna smiles calmly.

Of course, Luna has been taking pictures all morning so it's no surprise that we spend the next ten minutes taking pictures together.

Anne and Mrs. Weasley come in and after they pull themselves back together and dry their eyes, Anne takes a few pictures of the four of us together and then I take pictures with both Mrs. Weasley and Anne.

Little Victorie comes running in, looking simply adorable in her ivory flower girl dress with her own royal blue bow and little tiara.

She says something that resembles, "Like my dress, auntie 'Mione?" but I really don't understand her perfectly. She spent a year living in France with Bill and Fleur and has this accent now. It's not as bad as her mother's, but it's noticeable.

But I do smile, "Of course I do, you look like a princess!"

Giggling, she skips to Ginny and asks her the same thing.

All I can do is smile.

I really wanted Lizzie to be a flower girl of some sorts, with someone carrying her down the aisle, but she seems more interested in eating the rose petals rather than throwing them. Actually, now that she's crawling, we've had to coax quite a few things out of her mouth…I swear she stores all kinds of junk in her mouth like a little chipmunk scavenger.

I chuckle at the thought.

Harry and Ron are the next to come in. Ron is carrying Lizzie, who looks adorable in her royal blue dress. They're both stammering and telling me I look beautiful and Lizzie squeals when she sees me. I have to hold her because I've missed her this morning. She's been with her daddy since we arrived at the manor.

After a few minutes of talking to her and telling her how much I missed her, I pass her to Anne, who leaves with Mrs. Weasley trailing right after her, chatting about last minute details. It's nice they've become such good friends.

"How's Draco?" I ask, looking at Harry while Ron goes and talks to Pansy. Luna and Ginny are playing with Victorie's blonde ringlets.

"Actually, he's calm and ready. Blaise is in there talking to him now so we came to bug you."

"Oh, you know you're not a bother, not to me."

Harry grins, "How are you feeling?"

Truthfully, "A bit jittery, I guess I'm a little anxious to get things started."

"Well, there's fifty minutes left until it starts."

"Thanks for telling me that. Anne won't let me keep a watch in here because she thinks it'll make me nervous."

He laughs, "Well, you don't look that nervous to me…you look happy," his face gets a bit serious, "Malfoy and I may not be the best of friends, but he makes you happy and he's a great father to Lizzie, and that makes me happy."

I hug Harry tightly and kiss his forehead, "You're going to make a great father too."

I feel his grin, "I hope so."

A few minutes later I shoo him and everyone out the room to reflect alone.

For what seems like a few minutes, I just stare at myself in the mirror from all angles. I sit my bouquet down on the vanity carefully and sit down. Fourteen days of planning and here we are. Less than fifty minutes away from walking down the aisle.

I take a deep breath.

And then another.

Finally, I take a third one.

Okay, I'm good.

There's a knock on the door, "Yes?" I answer.

Blaise sticks his head in, "It's bad luck for the bride and groom to see one another before the wedding, but the groom is a stubborn git—OW! Draco that fucking hurt, you bastard! You didn't have to kick me in the leg!" Blaise fires a nasty glare out of my line of vision, leg lifted as he shakes the pain from his leg.

He points his wand and mutters a spell and I hear Draco protesting quite loudly, "Son of a bitch! You could've warned me!"

Blaise smiles gleefully, "That's what you get, you bastard."

My giggles end the argument and Blaise fixes his attention on me once again, "Anyways, sorry about that. I've got him under a spell to render him temporarily blind and if you want—"

"Go ahead, Blaise. I want." I close my eyes. I've been dying to see him all morning and since I can't, this is second best.

Blaise mutters the same spell he did before and I open my eyes (at least I think I am), only to see black. There's some movement and from what I can guess, he's bringing in Draco. I just stand in place, not daring to move a muscle as I hear their footsteps come closer. The next thing I feel is his hand that pats my arm, like he's trying to find me, then it slides down and takes mine. His other hand finds my free one and we lace our fingers together.

"I'll leave you two to talk for a few." Blaise's voice sounds a bit distant; I can hear the sound his shoes make softening with each step he makes.

I wait for the door to click shut and I slowly pull one hand from his, blindly touching the jacket of his suit.

"How are you?" he asks softly.

I smile. I haven't seen him in almost two days and I've missed him terribly, "Perfect…and you?"

His voice is calm, "The same."

My hand travels up his chest, neck, and rest on his cheek where I caress him softly, "Cold feet?"

There is a shiver in his voice when he replies, "No…you?"

My smile doesn't dissipate, "Never."

His other hand releases mine, traveling up my arm and to my shoulder, leaving a wake of goosebumps on bare skin. They move up, slowly until he's cupping my face…and then he pulls me in for a searing kiss. It starts off passionate and tapers off to something more gentle and affectionate, and when he pulls away slowly, I confess I'm a bit unsteady on my feet.

The door creaks open, "Alright, lovebirds, the charm is going to wear off in a little and I need another word with Draco." Blaise announces.

Draco kisses me one last time and whispers, "I love you," in my ear before he and Blaise walk out.

"I love you too."

The charm wears off as soon as the door closes.

Touching my slightly swollen lips, I smile and sit in the chair in front of the vanity and try to fix my makeup with a wave of my wand. I'm looking at my reflection in the mirror when there's another knock and I answer with an absent, but giddy, "Come in." Figuring it's probably one of the girls, I speak, "Pans, I don't think I can do the charm as well as you—" my voice dies when I look over.

Standing at the door is my father…dressed like he's going to a fucking wedding!

I almost jump out the chair in rage, but Anne slips into the room behind him and shuts the door. Suddenly I feel closed in and ambushed. All is silent when the door shuts. Anger and betrayal are the two emotions rising in my chest and I don't think I can breathe.

"Anne? W-what is this?" I squeak out, barely keeping control of my emotions.

I feel so betrayed, so betrayed it breaks my heart.

"Don't overreact, Hermione. You two need to talk…" she says calmly.

Coldly, I glare, "I've talked. I've talked and talked and tried and tried. I'm done."

He's staring at me with eyes that display a mesh of emotions, such as longing, awe, nervousness, and a hint of fear. I know he's shocked that I'm getting married. He told Anne after I left that he never in a million years thought that I would marry the father of my "spawn". Oh, that just makes my insides burn with rage everytime I think about it. I fire a glare at the traitor and Anne's eyes are on the floor, guilty as charged. And then my blazing eyes start switching back and forth between them.

Dad takes a step forward, "You look r—"

And just like that, I lose it, "Don't you fucking _dare_ speak another word to me! What the hell are you doing here? Are you purposely trying to ruin my wedding day? Huh? Answer me, damn it!" I scream at the top of my lungs, my voice thick with emotions and this burning sensation.

His voice is softer than I've ever remembered it, "No, of course not. I had my first nightmare last week and I realized that I can't let my only daughter walk out of my life."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" I ask with no emotion in my voice whatsoever, but I'm shaking so hard and gripping my wand so tight I'm surprised I haven't broken it…or hexed him. I'm really itching to.

"…your words did their purpose. They haunted me, I couldn't sleep all night. I haven't slept in a week, just thinking about it. Anne told me you were getting married today and I thought you would need you father."

I look at him like he's lost all his marbles, "I can't imagine why you thought that."

"You need someone to walk you down the aisle and there's no one better than your father."

I can't believe he has the audacity to come in here, after being an arse to me all my fucking life, and decide he's going to walk me down the aisle.

He must be out of his fucking mind if he thinks he's coming _near_ my aisle.

This is ridiculous, so ridiculous, I start laughing. That's right. I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach that's started to hurt. I can vaguely see them and they're staring at me like I've sprouted branches from my arms, but still I laugh.

I laugh and laugh until it tapers off with a sigh, "You've got to be fucking kidding me, right?"

He pops his knuckles, "No, I'm serious."

Frowns, "I liked it better when I thought you were kidding," and I cross my arms, "You know, I wouldn't let you walk me down the aisle if you were the last father on planet Earth. I don't know who or what put that moronic idea in your head, but I suggest you shove it out. I thought I made myself perfectly clear the last time we spoke, I'm through with you."

"Hermione, just—"

Of course, I cut him off, "Besides, I'm walking myself down the aisle. I—"

"I'm here to apologize, Hermione."

He wants to wait until today to apologize, fuck that.

I'm boiling with fury, "Your apology application has been submitted, reviewed, considered, and denied so bugger off!"

He bristles and looks at Anne helplessly before taking a few steps closer, "Look, I know I'm a shitty father—"

I snort ruefully and speak in a scathing, sarcastic tone, "Well, congratulations for that marvelous observation, really, you _do_ amaze me."

There's a flicker of anger in his eyes, "Hermione, let me finish—"

"Why should I?" I exclaim bitterly, "All you've done is hurt me. I won't let you do it again, I won't."

Sounding remorseful, "I'm sorry, Hermione, okay, I'm _sorry_."

I shake my head, "It's too late to apologize so stop trying because you're pathetic _'I'm sorry'_ is like putting a band-aid on a gunshot wound…completely and utterly pointless."

Desperately, he starts screaming at me, "Then tell me what I need to do!"

I start screaming back, face burning with anger, "There's nothing you _can_ do!"

"You're acting like a child!"

"You've been acting like a child my entire life!"

He stumbles back and calms himself down before locking eyes with me, "Let me make it up to you."

I'm close to tears, "You can't just up and decide to makeup years of pain, years of ignoring me, years of making me feel like I'm not good enough, years of saying you'd rather them save mum than me, you can't undo that kind of damage. You just _can't_."

"Just let me try. That's all I'm asking. Just let me try," he advances a few steps in my direction, "For Lizzie's sake," he throws that on at the end in soft tones.

Bitterly, I sneer, "You don't care about her…you don't even know her."

"I do care and I do know her…Anne was holding her when I arrived. She's quite the remarkable baby, intelligent, and a good judge of character. She wouldn't let me hold her, but I hope that in time she'll trust me again…and maybe in time you will trust me again too."

Before I can open my mouth, there's a knock on the door.

Ginny sticks her head in, "It's time. Everyone's taking their seats and no offense, but we need a quick meeting with the bride before the ceremony."

Dad looks at me, his eyes are soft and they try to soften me, "Can I stay and watch my only daughter get married?"

With a reluctant sigh, I reply, "Yes," because I'm too damn nice.

* * *

'_Cause it's you and me and all of the people, _

_with nothing to do__, nothing to lose__  
_

_and it's you and me and all of the people__  
_

_And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you_

"_You and Me"—Lifehouse_

_(Twenty minutes later)_

To be honest, I don't remember too much after that.

I don't remember Luna's last adjustments to my veil, Pansy's hug, or Ginny's last words before we all grab our bouquets and slowly make our way downstairs to the room where the ceremony is taking place. I don't remember hearing the doors open from my spot out of view.

Pansy looks at me, "Are you okay? I heard you and your dad shouting at each other from the stairs...your dad didn't—"

Of course, I interrupt, not really wanting to discuss the matter any longer, "I'm fine, Pans. Everything is great. He's a prick. The end."

I don't remember the flutist and the pianist start playing Bach's beautiful _"Arioso"_ or seeing little Victorie walk out, throwing cream and blue rose petals amidst all the swooning people or Teddy, who looks adorable in his suit and royal blue tie, quickly following her, holding the pillow with the rings on it. I don't remember Luna's final smile before she walks out or Pansy air kiss before she walks out with a smile on her face.

"This is it, Hermione. Remember what you said to me before you walked out at my wedding?"

"Umm…don't fall?"

She snickers, "Okay…remember what _else_ you said?"

"Umm…breathe?"

"Yes…just breathe. Everything is going to be just fine. Everything is going to work out."

I don't even remember Ginny's hug before she walks through the open doors. I don't remember collecting myself and trying to silence the butterflies in my stomach. I don't remember my hands sweating just a little or gripping my bouquet for dear life, nor do I remember getting my cue, two thumbs up, and a wink from George who is standing by the door.

"You look great, 'Mione…too bad you're marrying the ferret."

I would've glared at him, but all I can do is smile.

Yes, I am marrying the ferret and I'm damn happy about it.

I don't remember hearing everyone stand when I appear at the door. I don't remember anything because as soon as I see Draco and the look of utter awe and wonder that flashes across his face, everything, the argument with my dad, the sudden nervousness, everything just fades to dust.

Nothing matters.

I don't hear the wedding march begin and I don't feel myself start to walk. I don't hear the whispers and the gasps and Lizzie making noise. I don't hear anything. It's like someone pushed a giant mute button and all I see is Draco in his perfect suit with the blue tie and the matching vest.

I'm in a zone and when I hand my bouquet to Ginny and Draco takes my hand, all I can do is stare.

Shacklebot starts talking and I can't stop smiling at the crooked grin on his face.

"…resolve that love not be blotted out by the commonplace nor blurred by the mundane in life. Faults will appear where now there is entrancement; talents will face into bleaching experience but devotion, joy and love can grow as you build them together…"

My eyes lock with his, our hands entwined, and I notice his hands are slightly shaking, but I think mine are too.

"…taught by our own joys, by our own sorrows, by our own failures, we remind you that in marriage, as in all of life, one who insists on saving his lesser goods and his smaller self shall miss what's greater, but one who commits himself in devotion to his beloved and in consecration to their common enterprise, shall find the fullest of life…"

Looking in his eyes, being here, right here, right now, it's like I'm seeing the world from a whole different perspective.

My world is changing again.

This change is good, a wonderful addition to a wonderful story.

"…loving does not at first mean merging, surrendering, and uniting with one person—it is a high inducement for the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become world in himself for the sake of another person; it is a great, demanding claim on him, something that chooses him and calls him to vast distances…"

Our story, though it may be wonderful, it's far from simple.

It's shrouded with misunderstandings, fights, violence to the extreme, but also love and understanding and growth. Our story is of the moment…little moments that make up hundreds of yesterdays and a million more tomorrows. I'm ready for a lifetime of happy moments. I'm ready for those moments to stretch out into the distance with no promise other than infinity. And as I recite my vows, I know that I'm ready for it all.

"…the wedding ring is the shape of an unbroken circle, with no beginning or end. It symbolizes eternity, a never-ending love. Wear these rings proudly for they are symbols which speak of the eternal love that you have for each other and it marks the beginning of a long journey together. Now Draco, repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed…"

He looks straight in my eyes, "With this ring, I thee wed…"

* * *

_Hands down this is the best day I can ever remember;  
_

_I'll always remember the sound of the stereo, the dim of the soft lights,_

_The scent of your hair that you twirled in your fingers  
_

_ "Hands Down"—Dashboard Confessional _

_(Fifteen minutes later)_

The first thing I do as a Malfoy wife is lock the door to the little library we're in.

The second thing I do is take off my veil, throwing it far away from me. Itchy thing.

The third thing I do is throw my arms around him, squealing in excitement.

Draco laughs and hugs me back, lifts me off the floor and spins me around just once before setting me down on my feet and kissing me deeply.

His mouth is greedy for kisses and I find I'm just as greedy as he is. His lips wander down to my neck and I groan in appreciation, wanting him to keep going down…but he doesn't. Damn. Just before things get too hot, he pulls back…showing a display of amazing restraint, might I add. I'm ready to get down and dirty on the chair in the corner of the room. We haven't had sex since we agreed on the wedding date and I want him. Right now.

"Let's not get carried away, Mrs. Malfoy," he smirks.

I think he likes the way that sounds.

I don't.

I scrunch up my face, "Oh no, don't call me that. All it makes me want to do is look around for your mum."

He chuckles, "You have a point there," and captures my lips in another kiss…one that I reluctantly break to ask him an important question.

"Did you know that Vienna has approximately 1.5 million people living there?"

He looks at me like I've gone nutty, "Umm…no."

"And did you know that the Schöbrunn palace has 1,441 rooms and was the summer home to the Habsburg family?"

"No…what does this—"

"Oh, and did you know that Prater is Vienna's amusement park and the home of the Riesenrad, this huge Ferris wheel that's 220-feet high?"

He sounds a bit annoyed, "Can't say that I knew that…Hermione—"

Just one more to bug him, "Did you know that while Beethoven lived in his home in Heiligen Stadt in 1817, he composed his Sixth Symphony and that he lived there in order to be near a spa he hoped would cure his deafness?"

"What in the hell are you babbling on about Vienna for?"

"Because," I smile and kiss him quickly, "we're going to spend the next two weeks there for our honeymoon, thanks to Ginny…and we're going to visit _all_ of those places and then some. I did a lot of research and I hope you know some German because mine is a bit slop—"

I'm silenced with a grin and another kiss. Damn I'm making this "shutting me up with kisses" thing too easy for him, but I'm such a whore for his kisses.

I sink into him, resting my hand on his chest at the same moment I nip at his lower lip. He growls in my mouth and I definitely can get used to this for the rest of my life…

From the moment we walk into the reception room, I'm lost in a whirlwind.

Wedding photos are taken out in the garden. I spend nearly half of the time laughing at everyone's antics. Next comes the dinner, which includes the toasts from the wedding party. Ginny's, of course, makes me tear up. After dinner comes the first dance, which is the last dance for the both of us because we're definitely not the dancing type and everyone wants to talk to us.

This leads us to where we are right now.

Socializing.

Yes, we're socializing with the guests who aren't out on the dance floor, accepting congratulations and gifts that won't be opened until we return from Vienna. Draco isn't pleased about being forced to socialize, considering he'd much rather hide away upstairs, but I refuse to let him.

"Oh, Hermione! I can't believe you're a married woman! My babies are growing up too fast!" Mrs. Weasley sobs.

She hasn't stopped crying since the ceremony began and I awkwardly rub her back with my free hand and look over at Ginny who's snickering and holding Lizzie. I glare at her.

George had to slip some calming potion into her tea to get her to stop crying long enough to start the toasting at Ginny's wedding. I open my mouth to console her, but she cries harder, "Oh, I remember when you were this slip of a girl, with frizzy brown hair and buck teeth. Now you're all grown up and beautiful…and married!" she bawls.

Draco tries to suppress his snicker. I glare at him too.

Mrs. Weasley grabs my shoulders and forces me look into her red, teary eyes, "Promise me that just because you're married you won't stop coming by the Burrow to visit."

"I promise…we'll be there every Sunday for brunch, all of us." I smile.

That seems to console her.

"Congratulations, boy!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, completely thrilled. He slaps Draco rather hard on the back.

I have to bite back my laugh when he winces and finds the wind that was knocked out of him. He fires a glare at me and I go and collect Lizzie from Ginny, who is outright laughing now.

"She gave you the, _"don't forget about us"_ lecture too, huh?"

"Yeah," I chuckle and kiss Lizzie's forehead.

Ginny spots Parvati and Lavender and hurries over to talk to them. I wander over to Padma and Rodger, accepting their congratulations.

I look over at Draco for the third time, maybe fifteen minutes later and find him watching me, looking a little bored.

Draco barely knows anyone here, besides Blaise and the inner circle. Most of the guests are here for me; Gryffindors from our year, members of the D.A and the Order of the Phoenix, Ellis is here and a few people from the hospital are here as well.

He's spent most of his time when I'm not around, talking to familiar people, mainly his aunt, Daphne, Slughorn, and occasionally I'll find him talking to Blaise, who has randomly relinquishes his DJ duties to someone else so he can enjoy the reception (and hit on pretty witches, like Lavender, who is currently single).

I blow him a kiss and he flashes smile #4.

I'm chatting with Katie and Susan; both are using my wedding as a template for their own. Their fiancés are talking with Draco across the room and it's probably good they're over there because they're swooning over Lizzie who just knows she's too adorable for words and talking about how they want kids of their own.

"I can't wait until Dean and I start having kids. Oh, it must be wonderful to look at Lizzie and know you and Draco made her," Susan grins dreamily. Lizzie giggles and occupies herself with trying to remove her headband. Stubborn little thing. Too bad it's charmed to stay on...

Insert evil laugh right here for the smart mommy.

Smirks, "Well, yeah, of course. I can't imagine life without either of them."

"Her hair is a lot curlier now…she's starting to look more and more like you, Hermione, sort of," Katie observes.

"It's a start," I laugh and look adoringly at Lizzie, who freezes with her attempt to remove her headband. She looks like a kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar…and then she smiles innocently. I raise an eyebrow. How is it that at eight months old Lizzie's innocent smile makes her look slightly devious and more like her father?

"When are you two having more kids?" Susan asks, wiggling her eyebrow.

I make a face, "Not for a while."

Katie grins, "Draco was telling Lee that he wanted four kids."

"Draco is delusional from his lack of—" I pause and look at their faces, "He's standing right behind me, isn't he?"

Susan and Katie burst into fits of laughter and I turn and smile sweetly at my husband…wow, it feels kind of strange to say that.

Husband. Wow. I just need a moment to let the shock simmer down…

…okay I'm good.

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough," he smirks, "I'm not delusional, by the way."

"You are if you think I'm pushing out four kids."

Draco grins rather evilly and leans in close to me, "Malfoys always get their way."

"Which is a good thing because I'm now a Malfoy too, I think that means I'm getting my way too, huh?" I smile innocently and kiss him quickly, excusing myself from the two giggling women.

I almost bump into little Victorie, who is racing to the dance floor to dance with Ella and Teddy.

"'cuse me, auntie 'Mione!"

"It's okay, sweetie, just slow down."

She nods and races off.

I shake my head.

Draco sneaks up behind me and drops a kiss on the side of my head before he whispers, "We have a flight in three hours," he points to his watch, "We need to be leaving soon."

I nod and Draco takes my hand and we're about to cue Seamus to cut the music so we can announce that we're about to leave when we freeze in our spots. Lizzie, who has been giggling and tugging at her headband, stops suddenly and pastes this blank look on her face.

My father has decided to grace us with his presence.

Angrily, Draco mutters something that sounds like, _"Unbe-fucking-lievable."_

"The ceremony was nice," he pops his knuckles, "You look beautiful, Hermione."

Coldly, "Thanks, now if you'll excuse us, I have to go find my matron of honor and get ready to leave for the honeymoon."

"Well, Lizzie can stay with us. I'm sure Anne won't mind…and I won't either."

Draco's eyebrow nearly disappears into his hairline and his voice is about as polite as the stern look on his face, "We've already made the proper arrangements, sir…and to be honest, I don't trust my daughter in your care for two weeks, much less two minutes."

I look at Draco and squeeze his hand to get him to calm down, "This isn't the time or the place for an argument so Draco, calm down," he gives me a pointed look and take a deep breath. I'm appeased and I frown at my father, "And you...you can't just prance in here and think you've got rights and privileges."

"I'm just trying to work things out."

My voice drops to a threatening tone, "If you want to try and work things out, do me a huge favor and back off. Don't think that just because I let you attend the wedding that we're all good and dandy because we're not. We're just not. Now," I clear my throat, "If you'll excuse me, we have an announcement to make and a trip to leave on." I lead the way to Ginny.

"You're lucky I don't have my wand because if I did I would've hexed him as soon as he sat his happy arse down before the ceremony," Draco grumbles.

I stop and turn to him, "We're not going to let him ruin our day, okay? I love you."

He nods, "No, we're not going to let that git—" I glare at him. He smirks, "I love you too."

I smile because I always feel warm inside when he tells me he loves me, "Good. Now that's we've established that, we're going to say goodbye to everyone, grab our bags I've already packed for us, and head to the airport. We're going to have a great flight to Vienna, and we're going to check into the hotel room, and—"

"You're going to put on that transparent and silky maroon number Pansy was telling me about," he flashes a devilish smile.

My mouth about falls to the floor…I can't believe she told him that! I'm going to kill her. Later.

It takes a moment for me to regain my composure, but I smile a rather evil smile myself, "Exactly."

* * *

How was that? Too fluffy? Not enough fluff? 

One more chapter.

Update: I've technically finished the last chapter. It's thirteen pages typed and just needs to be edited...and the last line needs work.


	19. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: And here we are, at the end of another story and I find I'm a bit sad to let this one go. It had a rocky beginning, but now it's all good. Thank you so much to everyone who has kept up with this from the very first chapter, thank you all for constructive criticism and hilarious reactions. Seriously, I laughed at a lot of the reviews. They brighten my day and inspire me to write more. I hope the ending is good because I swear this story didn't want to end itself. Seriously. I'm not sure about a sequel, but I adore Lizzie's character and all the little boxes I've opened up in this chapter and I have all these ideas for what she's going to be like when she goes to Hogwarts and a bunch of other things, but we'll see. Anywho, it's been really fun and don't worry, I plan on writing more, possibly from a different angle. I want to play around with a darker Hermione, I think that'll be fun. Well, I'm done rambling. Enjoy the final chapter and don't forget to review! Peace!

* * *

_This ain't a movie no, no fairy tale conclusion y'all;_

_It gets more confusing everyday. Sometimes it's heaven sent,  
_

_Then we head back to hell again, we kiss and we make up on the way. _

"_Ordinary People"—John Legend_

_(Six years later: April 23__rd)_

The kitchen is a mess.

At least six cookbooks are strewn around the kitchen, their pages are held by various objects like spoons, paper towels rolls, various canned goods, and the salt and pepper shakers. You see, all these cookbooks have similar recipes with a touch of something new and in order to make the perfect dish I have to pick and choose special ingredients at will.

Well, I don't profess to be the best cook, but I'm not shabby at it…

…although you would've thought a tornado and an inexperienced cook blew through the kitchen the way it looks now.

A variety of pots and pans are scattered throughout the kitchen, soiled with the remains of food that has been haphazardly prepared. The oven is ringing, the phone is ringing, and my cell phone is vibrating on the kitchen table. Every drawer in the kitchen is wide open and there are various knives and forks littering the floor and one of the counters. Ingredients are spread all over the other counter, adding to the mess. The door to the refrigerator is wide open, and parsley flakes and spinach leaves are scattered on the floor directly beneath it.

In the middle of it all, I stand, tired, half-crazed, with flour on my shirt.

I sigh harshly, clearly frustrated and not to mention exhausted, and yank the oven door open and move to pull out the pan of lasagna, cursing to myself when I realize I've forgotten oven mitts.

To be honest, I don't think I've cursed aloud since Lizzie makes it quite evident that she's a human tape-player incarnate.

Amazing, huh?

Instinctively, I suck on my reddened finger for a moment before sliding the mitts on and pulling out the pan again.

Gently, I sit the pan on one of the clean spaces on the counter and crack a tired, but proud smile.

My first time making lasagna…ever…from scratch…and I haven't burned it or the house down.

Pleased with myself, I turn the knob on the oven to cease the incessant ringing, whip out my wand to clean up the mess and place a charm on the food to keep it warm until dinnertime, pull out the salad ingredients, and of course, I growl at the two ringing phones.

More than likely, it's Ginny.

She's knee-deep the sea of kids these days with James, who just turned five last month; Albus, who is about to turn four in tomorrow; and Lily, who will be three in a month. I don't even know how she has time to call me, but she always makes time.

Finally, I answer the house phone, "Hi, Gin."

She sounds startled, "How did you know it was me?"

Smirks, "Well, besides the caller-ID, the house phone and the cell phone were ringing at the same time…so what's the emergency?" I notice it sounds rather quiet in her background, which is odd.

"No emergency, everyone's down for a nap. Harry hasn't gotten home with James yet and while I'm planning out Albus's birthday party, I decided to call and check on you. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good, just tired…I just finished cooking Lizzie's favorite: lasagna…from scratch," I tack on at the end, looking over at the steaming pan with pleased eyes.

There's a small pause, "I didn't know you could make lasagna."

Snorts, "I didn't either…let's hope it's _nothing_ like Anne's."

I can hear Ginny's shudder, "Oh, don't even remind me of that horrific day. It took me a week to get the taste off my tongue and the stains off my plate. How is she? I haven't seen her since Lizzie's nightmare of a birthday party."

Remembering back three months ago to her sixth birthday party makes me laugh…hard.

Let's just say Lizzie _still_ hates parties and doesn't like attention, at all. Really, she's one of the most modest kids I've ever known, which is odd because Draco is _completely_ arrogant and I can be a bit pompous at times. She does really well at all the other parties she goes to and does well with small groups of friends, but put her in a crowded room and put a spotlight on her and you will quickly get introduced to irritated Lizzie and it's quite the sight.

It seems that every one of her parties fall into the category: Nightmare. However, this past birthday party is particularly bad. She spent the entire afternoon sitting on her daddy's lap, adorning a birthday hat, a toy, and a very Malfoy frown on her face while all the invited kids and Helen's (my neighbor) youngest son, Tyler, run around the house, squealing happily. Tyler tries his best to cheer up the brooding birthday girl, but all he gets for his efforts is an evil glare and a rude, _"Leave me alone."_

The scowl doesn't disappear until we bring out the cake and once she gets comfortable, she even lets Tyler drag her into a game of tag with the other kids.

"Anne is doing great," I reply with a smile, "she and dad are coming over next week to help out with setting up."

Yes, you heard me correctly…my dad.

Everything between us…it's not perfect, sometimes he makes me really angry, but we're doing the best we can. We're family and it's taken a while for me to see that life is too short to hold grudges and I don't want to regret any of my actions towards my dad in the future…so I do the mature thing, get over my hurt and anger towards him, and accept his peace offering.

Please believe it doesn't happen over night.

Honestly, it happens right around Lizzie's third birthday when he sends her this doll that she adores. I read the card to her and it says, _"Love, grandpa"_ on it and she spends the entire afternoon saying, _"love, gampa"_ over and over and I cry myself to sleep that night. I break down and take her to see him three days later and even though she's wary of him (and still kind of is to this day), the actual afternoon goes well.

Draco still doesn't like him very much, I suspect he never will, but he tolerates him because of me and Lizzie…

"Have you and Draco finally picked out a name for the baby?"

Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that I'm almost six month pregnant with a boy?

I think I did.

Please forgive me, my mind is a little scattered.

Draco, of course, is thrilled and keeps on saying, _"two more to go"_ and I just roll my eyes. He's an idiot if he thinks I'm having four kids. Lizzie, who I confess I'm a little worried about, is thrilled as well. We bought her a book on how to be a good sister after initially rejecting the baby, the book, _and_ the idea of being a big sister, I find her asleep in her favorite chair in the playroom with the book open.

I just know that everything is going to be alright from that point on.

Now she likes to press her head against my belly and talk to him.

Lizzie can ramble on about nothing for hours and I usually let her because it's best for her to bond with him now.

"We're stuck between Nathan Alexander Malfoy and Scorpius Ambrosio Malfoy, which is apparently a traditional family name…needless to say, I'm fighting for Nathan…_hard_. I'll even resort to tears if I have to." Yes, I'm that desperate.

Ginny starts laughing, "Well…how about Scorpius Alexander Malfoy…that sounds great, pompous, a bit exotic with the whole Scorpius aspect, but with an ordinary part too, like you like it…and all the kids can call him Sam, after his initials. It's a win-win for everyone."

That really doesn't sound like a bad plan. I ponder for a moment, "That's brilliant, Ginny…I'll bring it up to Draco when he gets home."

She clears her throat, "As a real thank you, do you wanna take James for the night? Luna and Neville are taking Albus and Lily so Harry and I can set up for the party tomorrow."

Luna and Neville got married two years ago in this huge field of wildflower in the middle of the summer after Neville's first year teaching Herbology. It was really warm, not too uncomfortable. To be honest, the day was perfect and I was proud to stand up there in my yellow bridesmaid sundress. Luna looked beautiful in a white sundress and a crown of flowers, he wore khaki pants and a white button-down, and neither one of them wore shoes. None of us did. It was a requirement if you wanted to attend the wedding. Odd, but still it was very beautiful.

"Okay, that's fine. Bring him on over when he gets home. Lizzie will be thrilled." James and Lizzie always play well together, that is, as long as we keep them in eyesight and in the front yard.

They both have the tendency to be a bit on the adventurous side. The last time they played together in the backyard I have to do some quick bone-mending on both of them because they decide the coolest thing in the world is to climb the biggest tree in the backyard and accidentally fall out.

"No problem, thank you so much…so, how did Lizzie's spelling bee go?" Ginny's asks.

I feel kind of silly when I shrug, she can't _see_ me. I smirk to myself and reply, "Not sure. Draco hasn't gotten home from picking her up from school yet…"

After much consideration and a few talks with the muggle relations department of the ministry, we decide to put her in a private muggle primary school and let her live a normal muggle life before she goes to Hogwarts.

Lizzie knows she's a witch, she's known for the last two years. Her first accidental magic episode is at the age of four when she makes Teddy's face break out in these awful warts after a yelling match where he told her that girls aren't better than boys at Quidditch when she asks her daddy to tell her the rules of the game—those two, at six and ten, _still_ don't get along very much.

Teddy always calls her a nerdy know-it-all and she calls him a troll…you know, one of those toys with the colorful hair. Yes, that kind of troll.

He usually takes offense to that, his hair turns bright red and he storm out the room.

Andromeda always has to stifle her chuckle when they're in the same room.

Cousins…I shake my head.

Ginny breaks into my thoughts, "…so I got an owl from Pansy yesterday; she says they're good and extremely happy and in Belize. She wanted me to send you, Draco, Lizzie, Luna, and, well, _everyone_, her love and she misses us all. I think they'll be home in like three weeks or something like that."

After a long engagement, Pansy and Ron finally got married a month ago in this very flashy ceremony where we're all subjected to wearing ivory dresses and Pansy came down the aisle in a stunning and totally non-traditional magenta wedding dress. Nobody can keep their eyes off her the entire ceremony and even in reception, and I think that's the way she likes it. I've never seen Ron look so happy, Pansy either. They're still on their honeymoon as we speak. You see, they decide to spend two months traveling the world together.

It's something she's always wanted to do and Ron loves to travel. It's a win-win situation for them both.

I'm about to reply when I hear the front door open the pitter-patter of little feet heading up the steps to put her bag down and change out of her school jumper, "Hey, Gin, that's them. I'll call you back later, okay?"

"Okay."

I hang up and turn to face a casually dressed Draco, who is wearing a small smirk on his face.

Wordlessly, he gives me a kiss and even now I still feel a little woozy and unsteady on my feet when he kisses me.

"How are you feeling?" he asks softly, hands on my hips.

"My feet hurt," I smirk, "I may need a massage later, but other than that, we're both doing well."

This pregnancy is a lot easier than Lizzie's, minus the morning sickness, which is just as bad as it was with her. I'm just able to do a lot more and the mood swings aren't as bad. Ellis happily brings me a homemade peanut butter cookie every single day since I announce my pregnancy. Bless her.

Oh, and luckily for Ron or _anyone_ for the matter, I haven't attacked anyone over a candy bar.

Although I did have to seriously control my temper when Teddy ate the last peanut butter cookie last month…and I give Harry a stern glare when he picks up a mini bag of skittles from the candy dish last week.

He puts the bag down and backs away slowly…he really _does_ have a talent for staying alive.

"That's good…how long have you been home?"

"Since lunchtime, I kind of dropped everything and left. Perks of the job," I still work at St. Mungo's, but not as a healer.

After making a suggestion that helped the hospital save more than 300 million galleons two years ago, they promote me to the head of the finance department of the hospital, which comes with my own assistant, personally set hours, and the option to work from home if I feel the need to.

"Nice perk," he kisses me quickly again and looks around the kitchen, "you cooked?"

"Yep, lasagna…figured Lizzie may need it today. How was your day?"

"Good. I had a meeting with the board, had lunch with my aunt and Blaise at her house, then Blaise and I went to Lizzie's spelling bee, and I got paint for Lizzie's room before I went back to pick her up. She opted for bright pink walls."

I chuckle and shake my head, "Figures she would, Pansy's little fashion clone, that one…so, how was the spelling bee?"

We pause and listen to her come down the steps.

Uh-oh, she's not running.

He stifles a chuckle and goes to the refrigerator and pulls out some grape juice and Lizzie's favorite cup, "Maybe you can talk to her, she's really upset and she won't listen to me."

"W—"

"I'll let her—"

"Hi, mummy," Lizzie greets from the doorway, a bit somber. She walks up to me and rests her head on my stomach, "Hi, baby brother," and then she backs away.

"Hey munchkin," I offer a smile, hoping she'll grace me with one of hers.

She declines the offer to smile back and sighs.

Oh, Merlin, she's sulking…_and_ she's in her "comfort" pajamas, pink and purple plaid pants and the matching pink top, holding the same bear Blaise gave her as a baby. She only wears comfort pajamas and holds Mr. Bear (her name for him) when she feels bad or when it's storming outside and she's afraid. I already know this is bad, but at the same time kind of cute.

I take a moment and observe my daughter: stormy grey eyes, rosy cheeks, curly shoulder-length chestnut brown hair, sun-kissed skin, and a cute little frown.

Yep…she's definitely brooding.

Draco sits a half full glass of grape juice in front of her and she takes a generous drink and I pull a chair next to her, running my hand through her hair, "Munchkin, how was your day?"

Lizzie sighs, burying her face in Mr. Bear's head so her voice comes out muffled, "No good."

Warily, "Was it the spelling bee?"

She still looks down, but at least she's pulled her head off Mr. Bear's head so I can hear her clear, "I won…with consang—con—daddy? I can spell it, not say it…" she looks at her daddy for help.

Draco supplies, "The word was consanguineous…spell it, munchkin."

Lizzie pauses for a moment, thinks, and spells in a dull voice, "c-o-n-s-a-n-g-u-i-n-e-o-u-s."

"Perfect," he tries to cheer her up with a smile, but it doesn't work so he continues, "She's the youngest spelling bee champ ever at her school," he can't hide the pride-filled look on his face, "They want to send her to the regional competition, but Lizzie declined."

I just stare at her, dumbfounded, stunned, and most of all proud that my six-year-old beat out kids who are at least five years older than her, "Lizzie, honey, that's _amazing_." It makes sense that she would decline to go to the regional spelling bee, judging from her personality, she doesn't want anymore attention on her.

I've considered the idea that Lizzie may be highly intelligent ever since that doctor's appointment when they tell me that at four months she shouldn't know the difference between strangers and friends. Ever since, I really don't know what to expect from her and rather than subject her to a battery of test, I elect to let nature take its course with her.

And boy does it.

She literally gets off the floor and starts walking at ten months, talking at a year, building and designing things with Lego's at eighteen months, reading at two. She can add large numbers in her head by the time she turns three, multiply by four, and divide by five. She's starting to understand the concept of algebra and biology now, and Lizzie loves History. Sometimes Draco and I just sit and watch her in total amazement as she sucks in information with little effort and I'll confess, for a while there, when she begs me to read The Iliad before bed at the age of three, I feel lost. I think we both did.

"You should be really proud of yourself, munchkin," I tell her, hoping it'll make her feel better.

"I am," she takes a few more sips of her grape juice.

For a while, Lizzie doesn't seem like a real kid to me and I really don't have experience raising someone who at the age of ten can possibly know more than I do, but all these feelings change when she skins her knee on the driveway at five and scream like a banshee, begging her daddy to kiss it to make it better.

She may be intelligent, she may be the smartest six-year-old I've ever come across, but emotionally, she's _still_ six.

Lizzie likes to play in the rain. She likes eating cookies and drinking grape juice, watching movies. She likes to draw and play with Barbie dolls, thinks that some boys have cooties, sings horribly loud in the shower, she stumbles over words, and at the age of two Dora the Explorer is her hero. Seriously.

Granted she can speak more Spanish than I ever will (as well as French) and she can pick out edible berries when her class goes on nature walks, but still, Lizzie is first and foremost, a little girl.

And I intend to keep her that way as long as I can.

"How was the rest of your day?" I ask just to promote conversation.

"Okay…" she trails off.

She's already had a rough year.

After completing Year one of primary school, Lizzie's teachers see how intelligent she is and skip her up to Year three, which doesn't make her very popular with her new classmates. She spends the first part of the year getting teased for being a nerd…that is, until Tyler, her best friend and classmate, threatens to, _"slug anyone who calls her a nerd again!"_ that's a direct quote from Helen, who chuckles everytime we reminisce about that day.

Lizzie finishes the cup of grape juice and sits it down, miserably, "Hit me, daddy."

I have to suppress my laughter when Draco pours a little more juice in her cup like the common barmaid. Merlin, my daughter's getting "drunk" off of Welch's grape juice. Something must've gone terribly wrong.

"Well, what's got you so glum, munchkin?"

Lizzie takes another drink and looks up at me, grey eyes swimming with tears now, and then she opens her mouth rather awkwardly and I see what's wrong.

She's missing her two front teeth…

And now she's hysterical, "They're gone! I tried to put them back in, I promise I tried! I'm so sorry mummy, I lost my teeth!" Sobbing, she opens her fist and there they are; two pearly white baby teeth.

I look at Draco with wide eyes.

Lizzie isn't one for emotional outbursts, she gets that from him and to be honest, I'm kind of frightened to see her sobbing over missing teeth. I sink down to my knees and hug her close, letting her cry on my shoulder while I rub her back, "Oh, honey, it's okay, I promise. They're gonna come back," I soothe in a motherly tone, tears threatening to fill my own eyes.

She throws her arms around my neck, sobbing uncontrollably, "That's w-what daddy said! Daddy said I was becoming a b-big girl now, but I-I don't w-w-wanna be a big girl! I just want my t-teeth back! T-the boys at school, the ones in Year two, they c-called me snaggle tooth, and I don't w-wanna be a-a snaggle tooth!"

"The boys are just jealous, munchkin," Draco supplies because I'm almost crying with her.

I take over after I calm myself down and when her cries diminish to hiccupping sighs, "Daddy's right, munchkin…they want to be big boys, but they can't because they haven't lost their teeth yet and they're jealous because you've lost yours."

"And now you can get money from the tooth fairy," he inputs with a smile.

Lizzie lifts her head and looks at her daddy with teary grey eyes, "Money? For my _teeth_?" she sounds unconvinced.

I nod in agreement with him, hoping he's going somewhere with this, "Yes, you can get a galleon per tooth, so long as you put them under your pillow before you go to bed tonight."

She sniffles, less sad now and more inquisitive, "But what does the tooth fairy do with the teeth?"

I look at Draco and he fires back a look that tells me he has absolutely no clue and I'm on my own. Bastard, he starts this and he can't even finish, "Well, she's building a collection," I answer weakly.

Now she's no longer sad and is full-on questioning mode, "Why does she need a c-collection of teeth?"

"It's her job…to reward good girls and boys for becoming big girls and boys when they lose a tooth."

Lizzie pauses for a second as if she's pondering my words over, "Really?"

"Yes."

"So I get a galleon for each missing tooth?" Lizzie gets this look on her face that kind of frightens me…it's the look right before she does something crazy.

Like the time she tried to jump from the patio to test gravity or the time Teddy pushed her down and she skinned her elbow up really bad. Lizzie exacts her revenge by convincing him later that there's an enchanted pond in the woods behind Andromeda's house, leads him out to a regular pond deep in the forest, and leaves him to find his way home (it takes him three hours and Lizzie is grounded for two weeks, which I hear her say to Mr. Bear that it's worth seeing him look scared like a little girl).

I already know what she's thinking so I decide to cut her off at the head, "Yes, but they have to fall out _naturally_ and they have to be _your_ teeth, okay? Don't do anything sinister because the tooth fairy doesn't reward bad little girls."

Lizzie smiles in her missing teeth glory, "I won't! I promise!" she squeals, excited. She hops up and hugs us both, "I'm gonna go put them under my pillow right now and I'll be a good girl when I see the troll—I mean, _Teddy_ tomorrow!"

I try to hide my snicker, "Oh, Lizzie, James is spending the night tonight."

"Yay!" she cheers, all signs of sadness behind her, "I'm gonna go upstairs and change, okay mummy and daddy?"

Draco smirks, "Sure, munchkin."

She grabs Mr. Bear and runs upstairs.

I heave a sigh when she's out of the room and Draco quickly gets up to help me back on my feet, "I like seeing her happy, I'm used to it…I'm _not_ used to her crying."

Draco runs a hand over his head, "Tell me about it, she was bawling when I got to the school for the spelling bee. She pulled herself together enough to participate."

"Wait, you're telling me she won a spelling bee while upset like that?"

He replies with amazement in his voice, "Yeah…amazing, huh?"

I'm always flabbergasted by Lizzie, "_Very_."

The doorbell rings.

I get up to answer it with Draco following me, muttering about how I need to sit down and take it easy.

Rolling my eyes, I pull open the door.

It's Helen and Tyler.

Draco pastes a fake smile on his face. He doesn't really like Helen, he says she asks too many questions and talks too much, but I think he tolerates her because Lizzie is Tyler's best friend…and not to mention, Tyler is_ fiercely_ protective of Lizzie, proving as such by standing up to more than a few bullies in her honor.

"Hi, Helen," I smile at her and ruffle Tyler's brown hair, "Hi, Tyler," the little boy grins up at me with sparking green eyes.

"Hey, Hermione," Helen smiles, "I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor and keep Tyler…" she proceeds to rattle on about how her mother is sick and she and her husband are taking a flight out to Virginia to visit and help her out and the older three boys are staying with her sister's family, but there's no one there for Tyler to play with…and well, you get the drift.

I'm about to speak up when Draco cuts me off, "It's no problem, he can stay."

Although I don't show it, I'm kind of stunned, "Yeah," I agree with him, "No problem at all. My godson is spending the night here," I look down at Tyler, "You remember James, don't you?"

The little boy nods his head with a grin on his face…he's missing a tooth too.

"He'll be here tonight and they're going to a birthday party tomorrow for James's little brother." I make a mental note to tell Ginny to warn everyone that there's going to be a muggle kid at the party.

She looks pleased, "Oh that sounds like loads of fun, huh, Tyler?"

He nods again enthusiastically…as you can probably tell, Tyler's not much of a talker, which is probably why Draco likes him. Tyler must've gotten that trait from his taciturn dad, Steven, Draco's only muggle friend.

"I want you to be good for Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, okay? Don't do anything…strange."

Tyler nods and smiles, "I won't, mum."

Helen continues to talk, just to give me details. She'll be back next Wednesday and she gives me a slew of emergency numbers, how to reach her and her sister and everyone else in their family. And then she goes on and on about how happy she is to have such great neighbors and I have to tell her it's no problem, that we love having Tyler over and that he's one of Lizzie's best friends.

So by the time she leaves to go get his bags, I'm agreeing with Draco that she definitely talks too much.

"Tyler!" Lizzie flies down the steps, dressed in play clothes, looking a lot happier, and launches herself at her best friend.

I guess she gets that from me.

Even though he's a bit larger than her, he stumbles, but hugs her back with equal enthusiasm, even though they've just seen each other at school, "Mummy! Can we go play in the playroom until James gets here?"

"Sure, but dinner will be ready soon, okay?"

Lizzie nods, grabs his hand, and drags Tyler up the stairs, chattering about some new book she read.

I look over and raise my eyebrow at the chuckling Draco, "What?"

"Helen really _does_ talk too much."

"Not going to disagree with you on that, but she'd take Lizzie in a heartbeat if we ever needed her to."

I shut the door and head back to the kitchen to finish slicing vegetables for the salad. I sit at the table chopping vegetables while Draco sets the table, we can hear Lizzie and Tyler run around upstairs.

I smirk, kind of sadly, "I think it's going to be a sad day when she leaves him for Hogwarts."

"Who says that's going to happen?"

I look at him funny, "What—"

"Weren't you listening to what Helen was saying? _'Don't do anything strange.'_ I _knew_ it. Last week Lizzie was telling me about her day and she mentioned that when Tyler concentrates hard and touches a glass of water, he can make the water inside bubble and when he gets mad he can—"

My eyes widen at this bit of news, "You're telling me—"

"They'll probably go in the same year because his birthday is just a few days late. He'll probably be a Gryffindor like the lot of you," he rolls his eyes and continues after his face twists in a sneer, "and I think he knows Lizzie is just like him."

Although she displays some disturbing Slytherin behavior, Draco finally agrees with me that Lizzie is not Slytherin material.

She's not ambitious and doesn't care if she's the best (even though she usually is).

She'll be first non-Slytherin Malfoy…and we think she'll probably be a Ravenclaw for her intelligence or a Gryffindor because of her bravery; I think he's shooting for Ravenclaw. He's on an _"anything but Gryffindor"_ path with her and is determined to make sure our son is a Slytherin.

Right…_okay_.

"We should probably talk to McGonagall," I suggest, chopping away at carrots, "and get someone from Hogwarts to come and talk to his family early so they can get used to the idea…and maybe we can show them that wizards are just ordinary people…aside from the ability to do magic."

"Do you think his parents will care?"

"I don't think so. I think Helen knows something is different about him and she's proud of him."

To be honest, I'm still stunned by this piece of information on Tyler.

Now that I think about it, I see what he's talking about. Helen is _always_ telling me how Tyler is special. I remember her telling me that when he was two, he fell down the stairs and didn't even have a scratch on him and when he was four, his brother mysteriously broke out in hives after pushing Tyler into a puddle of mud. Now the water bubbles…

All these incidents of Tyler's accidental magic keep flying through my head. I can't believe I didn't realize this before.

I just keep chopping vegetables until Ginny steps out the floo to drop James off.

Draco ruffles the little boy's raven hair and sends him upstairs to play with Lizzie and Tyler, rounding out the trio.

Ginny, as tired as she is sometimes, still looks amazing for a mother of three small children. She doesn't play Quidditch anymore, but works as a reporter for a Quidditch magazine, which gives her enough time to be home with the kids. Harry is the head of the Auror department and usually ends his days early so he can spend time with his kids.

She hands me a box with a smile, "I brought you some more slippers."

Okay. Seriously, what did I do to deserve such amazing friends? I put on the slippers and sigh, "It's like walking on a cloud."

"They're charmed to make you feel that way."

"Thank you so much, Gin," I hug her and sit on the couch, "Where's Harry?"

"At the house, setting up for the party. What happened with Lizzie?"

I explain the entire story and Ginny looks torn between wanting to laugh or cry, exactly how I felt, but in the end we both have a good snicker, she leaves, and after fixing the salad, we all sit down and eat.

Draco, after swearing not to tell his mum, gets Tyler to concentrate and do the trick with the bubbles, to my astonishment. James, who just had his first episode of accidental magic, is excited.

After that Tyler is all about showing us what he can do…some of the stuff Lizzie has actually _teaches_ him to do…I don't expect that one. I'm just stunned, "Lizzie," I brush back her hair with my hand, "I didn't know you could do that…"

She just smiles modestly and plows through her salad and lasagna…which tastes amazing, by the way. So worth the hell I went through to make it.

The kids help clean the kitchen and are rewarded with cookies for dessert.

Draco and I convene out on the back porch, while Lizzie reads a book about Greek mythology and James and Tyler play video games on the family room television. He wraps his arms around me and I sink back against him, enjoying the warm, spring evening. It's peaceful out tonight and I find myself closing my eyes. Draco rests hands on my stomach and I smile at the whooshing sensation.

"You're quiet tonight," he comments lowly in my ear.

I shiver, not from the cold, but from his voice, "Just thinking, that's all…a lot of things have happened today. Tyler's ability to do magic and Lizzie's ability to consciously do that kind of magic, it's a lot to take in."

"True…she's going to be amazing…like her _father_."

I snort, "_Please_, let's not forget that I'm the most gifted witch of our day."

Draco yawns, "You were a suck-up."

"I was not," I argue, "I can't help it if I'm better at magic than _you_."

"Whatever you say, _Mrs. Malfoy_," he teases with a smirk on his face.

I glare at him. He only calls me that to annoy me, "You're lucky I don't have my wand or else I'd hex you."

He's still wearing that smirk, "You wouldn't hex me, you love me too much."

I want to keep that glare, but I can't…it turns into a smile, "I suppose I do," he kisses my cheek and I remember what I need to tell him, "Oh, and before I forget. Ginny thinks we should compromise and name the baby Scorpius Alexander Malfoy and suggested we call him Sam because of his initials. Do you like that?"

Draco pauses for a moment to think, "Yeah, I do…I like it a lot, actually," he seems rather amazed by that fact.

"I do too."

A couple of hours later, Draco sits on the cool tile next to the tub I'm currently relaxing in after putting the three to bed.

Tyler and James are in the king-sized guest bed and Lizzie is in her room, but no doubt, we'll wake up tomorrow and find Lizzie sleeping between her two best friends in the guest bed. We'll worry about the problems that may arise from this later, but right now it's innocent.

"Everyone sleep?" I smile at him lazily, consumed in bubbles.

"Looks to be that way," he murmurs, leans over, and kisses me soundly before he decides to strip down and join me.

As he massages my achy feet, I feel I have a confession to make…

I_ love_ being married to this man.

Trust me. It's not always easy being married to Draco Malfoy.

Merlin, he can be so bloody _difficult_ sometimes and sometimes I really want to strangle him…but I suppose marriage isn't supposed to always be easy or everyone would get married and stay married forever. And we all know _that_ doesn't always happen.

I think marriage is designed to be hard, crazy, and even mind-numbing…but it's also designed to be worth it.

The positives always outweigh the negatives.

It's so worth waking up in Draco's arms every morning, it's so worth pillow fights with Lizzie to make her feel better after a hard day, it's worth watching her grow up and make friends, it's worth the foot massages and gaining twenty-three pounds with this second pregnancy (so far, _ugh_), it's worth the occasional yelling, it's worth giving up my potty mouth, it's so worth everything and more.

This whole marriage has been one giant learning experience for the both of us.

After six years of it I confess I'm still learning things about him (and vice versa) and even about me. I'm still trying to gain perspective on marriage and even relationships and I'm still taking advice on how to raise a gifted daughter. Not to mention, I'm still recovering from a slight obsession with perfectionism. After six years, the hoopla surrounding our relationship and how we've gotten this far hasn't really died down, but they're not as upfront about it and we don't venture into the wizarding world too often now that Lizzie is older.

There are things I want to tell her first, when she's old enough…mainly the story about her birth.

To be honest, I think everyone in the wizarding gossiping world is just_ waiting_ for us to have a huge row and divorce, to prove that relationship between the son of a death eater and the brains of the Golden Trio can't work. They want to prove that we're too different; that our relationship is the plotline to an impossible fairytale; that we're too extraordinary to stay married for the long haul, much less raise a daughter together.

Well, they can keep on holding their breaths until they suffocate because Draco and I, we're the real thing, we've been through too much to give up anytime soon. He's pivotal to my existence and I love him more than I've ever loved another, always have and always will.

No matter what people think, no matter what the gossip columns may sporadically say about us, we're just an ordinary couple, who live an ordinary life with ordinary friends and ordinary daughter and an ordinary son on the way.

Yes, we have had extraordinary things happen to us, we've fought in a war, we're practically celebrities in the wizarding world, we've fought each other, I've cried, we've laughed and fought and slammed doors in stubborn rages, but when it all boils down to it, we're still just ordinary.

We make mistakes, we forgive, and we have good days and bad days and sometimes even awful days. We're _definitely_ still learning, and still don't have a plan or a clue sometimes. We're still growing up as people and as parents, but we've got something most people don't. We have a slew of friends and family who'll help us out on our path.

I don't think I can't say this enough, but I'm incredibly blessed to be here and I can't help but realize that if I died the day I had Lizzie I would've missed so much. I take nothing for granted because nobody lives forever. I think I understand this fully now and there isn't a day that passes where I don't think about how grateful I am for Draco who makes me happier than I can ever imagine, for Lizzie who is the primary reason for all this, for my friends and family who have helped us along the way, and for the growing baby in my stomach who represents the future.

We've come a long way from our horrid beginning...

...and even though I know we still have a long way to go, I know we'll make it.

* * *

The end

* * *

How was the conclusion? Good? I hope so.

Thank you for whoever nominated this story at the Dramione Awards. I'm really touched.


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